A Romeo and Juliet Story
by Star7
Summary: SENRU, YAOI, AU, Dark - Two sons from two rival families living in two separate worlds which they cannot escape. Two star-crossed lovers against the fickle dance of fate. - COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_December 2009._

_Greetings! The first two chapters of this story were previously released on several websites a number of years ago. After that I left it alone for a long time and have finally taken it up again! There have been many additions and adaptations of the first two chapters so please take a moment to read the new versions._

_The quotations in bold throughout the fic are taken from Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_._

_Comments and criticism are very much desired! I want to make this the best I can and am always prepared to edit chapters – even older ones! - so please go ahead and speak your mind._

_Thank you for taking the time to read._

_- Star_

**A Romeo and Juliet Story **

**Chapter 1**

There was a brief period of time that I recall, when we were very young. We were at an age when we understood death, but didn't quite believe in it. An innocent, open minded and impressionable age when I had never held a gun.

I can remember the moment clearly. I was playing with him on the basketball court. We were rolling a small blue ball along the floor to each other, laughing when it went astray, chasing it when it rolled off the smooth cement into the long grass. Just as any normal children oblivious to the black adult world around them would do.

I can even remember feeling happy until his mother came for him and pulled him away. I sat and watched him go, aware of the sad, puzzled look on his face. When they were some distance away I could still hear the scolding that the woman was giving him.

"Stupid boy!" she had said, "do you not know who you were playing with?"

And then I felt sad.

He had strained his neck round to look back at me, and when he thought his mother wasn't looking he waved goodbye. I waved back, and then Hisashi came with his big-kid friends to take me home for lunch.

I haven't seen that boy since, but I think of him sometimes in my now grown up world of guns, drugs and dirty money. I remember him well because that was the point in my life when I learned of the age-old rivalry, and in time I would also learn to hate, just as my parents taught me.

**Two households - both alike in dignity.  
**  
The Sendohs - and the Rukawas.

* * *

The youngest Rukawa pushed his food around his plate slowly. Eating didn't seem worthwhile. He couldn't even taste the food in his mouth. After forcing himself to chew another half a mouthful he dropped his fork onto the plate with a clatter. He rose from his chair, the legs scraping against the tiled floor of the grand conservatory noisily as he pushed it backwards.

His mother looked up at him, gold earrings jingling musically with her movements. "Don't leave yet, Kaede" she implored him, lifting her eyebrows as if trying to communicate a secret meaning, "it's nice to have your company while Hisashi is out."

He didn't spare her a glance. Ignoring her as if she wasn't even there, he turned to walk away from the dining table.

"Dear..." he heard her turn her attention to her husband who hadn't looked up from where he was reading a report, pausing occasionally to take a mouthful of food or to tut and shake his head at the events illustrated to him, "...dear, isn't it nice to have Kaede sit with us? Call him back, dear."

Kaede rolled his eyes unseen as he walked away. She was years too late to be chasing that same old angle. Nothing was going to change.

"Be quiet" Anzai replied shortly as Kaede had expected, "I'm reading."

With a bitter smile at the hopeless predictability of the conversation Kaede let himself out of the room, closing the door on his deflated mother with a click.

Without a backward glance he left the conservatory where his parents had chosen to dine and walked through the extensive lounge into the lavishly decorated hall where the grand staircase led to the upper floors. A couple of women servants were there chatting idly. When they saw the young man enter the hallway, however, they immediately snapped to attention and bowed low muttering "Good evening Kaede-sama."

He ignored them too, and ignored the flash of apprehension he knew was in their eyes, and began to ascend the stairs, intending to retire to his room. He was stopped halfway up the staircase by the sound of the main exterior door opening behind him and a forceful voice calling his name.

"Oi, Kaede!"

He turned slowly on the spot to see his brother standing in the door frame dressed in full biking leathers. His right hand held a joint, while the other was squeezing the shoulder of a sweet-faced boy at his side. Kaede ignored the call and bowed instead to his brother's companion, "Good evening sempai."

The corners of Kogure's lips lifted slightly, his cheeks were gently flushed from his recent ride on Hisashi's beloved motorcycle. "Kaede" he returned the greeting pleasantly. The only one now who still spoke spoke his name with something other than cold fear or heartless derision. Kaede felt warmed just at the sight of him. For a moment it was as if perhaps things weren't so bad after all.

"Where's dad?" Hisashi demanded, ushering Kogure inside the hallway and kicking the door closed behind him with his foot even as one of the maid's came forward to assist him. Kogure handed over his jacket to the woman gratefully, bending down to remove his shoes as well. Hisashi paid her no attention whatsoever.

"Conservatory" Kaede replied simply, eyeing the black mark Hisashi's foot had left on the white paintwork with disapproval

"Cool. Listen. I ran into a bit of trouble on the way back. Some fucking Sendoh punks pushing over the boundary at Kujin. I'll take Tetsuo and some of the boys to sort 'em out later." He sent his younger brother a smooth provoking smirk, "why don't you come along?"

"Can't" was Kaede's simple reply.

"_Can't_" Hisashi repeated mockingly, "what? You too scared someone might break that pretty face of yours?"

Kaede took a breath, trying to resist the temptation to snap a retort. Thankfully he didn't have to, because another voice spoke up with a deep rumble from the other side of the hallway.

"He can't because he's working tonight."

All three boys looked towards the door that led to the study where a fourth man had just appeared. Tall. Taller than any of them, wide and strong like a fighter, although the square-rimmed glasses on his nose gave him an intellectual look. He bowed to Hisashi politely.

Hisashi only scowled back at him and tsked in irritation. He spared his brother a final unfriendly glare before marching off in the direction of the conservatory, Kogure in tow.

Kaede waited for the door to slam behind him before turning his attention back to the new arrival. "Akagi-san?" he queried. "You said there's a job tonight?"

The large man nodded at him seriously. "The details haven't been fully finalised yet. I will be able to give you the full details in a few hours. I must ask you to stay in the house in the meantime."

Kaede stared at him for a moment longer before narrowing his eyes and turning on his heel for the final time and making his way upstairs without a word. Akagi watched him go silently.

Upon reaching his bedroom, Kaede couldn't help slamming the door. He stood still, breathing hard, leaning back on the wood and closing his eyes in an attempt to calm himself. No good would come of acting like a troubled teenager he reprimanded himself. After a few moments more he opened his eyes and looked around him at the familiar respectably sized bedroom. It hadn't been redecorated for a long time and still carried the faint hallmarks of Kaede's younger, more innocent years. The optimistic blue colour, for example. The patterned curtains for another. It didn't really suit him now, in his sixteenth year, the dangerous but silent young man he had become.

His eyes moved over the many quaint trophies on a couple of shelves, his bed messy and unmade against one wall, the faded basketball posters plastered over the paintwork. Over on his desk lay an empty gun holster. One gun was even now at his waist, the second hidden under his pillow where he might reach it easily during the night.

On Kaede's left hand side there was a French window, full sized, leading outside onto a small, empty balcony. The view looked out over the beautiful rear gardens of the mansion. At this time of year the cherry blossoms were in bloom and pink petals were scattered delicately over the lush grass. On Kaede's right, opposite the French windows hung a large artwork on white canvas, dominating the room. It was so large that it covered the majority of the wall with its single, powerful image. The black silhouette of a tree without leaves, just spreading black branches on the crisp white background. Underneath the tree, in blue, the only colour in the image, was a stream flowing diagonally across the sheet from one corner to the other. The picture was minimalist, simple but strong. Across the bottom was stamped the family name _Rukawa_, and under that another with the family motto: _Victory with Ease_. There was an identical one in each bedroom as though his father believed it should be the last thing you saw before going to sleep and the first thing you saw upon waking in the morning. It was the eternal stamp– name, heritage, blood. The whole room, the whole house and all the people in it were claimed and possessed by that one name – Rukawa.

With a sigh Kaede moved fully inside the room, drifting over towards the bed, intending to lie down and rest.

He paused however when he noticed the discrete wire that ran half hidden along the top of the skirting board to disappear behind his desk. His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. With a silent sigh he dropped to his hands and knees, pulling the wire off the wall as he crawled, and finally snapped the small microphone he found on the end.

He dropped the mutilated bug onto his desk before flopping onto the bed, one hand against his forehead as he gazed at the ceiling blankly.

_Bloody Sendohs_he thought absent-mindedly, automatically - as he had been taught to do.

**In fair Verona, where we lay our scene. **

Yokohama. The second largest city in Japan and the capital of Kanagawa prefecture.

A famous port city, Yokohama was filled with lights and life enjoyed both by the residents and the millions of visitors who came to experience the great city every year. To the eyes of the casual observer the city was fresh, modern and inviting. The streets kept clean and tidy by the thousands of cleaners employed by the central city council, an outward sign that the economy was not only stable but booming. Tall and towering skyscrapers decorated the waterfront; at their bases a deluge of luxury shopping centres all enticing wealthy visitors to part with their money.

And yet beneath the appearance of stability and wealth there was something gnawing away at the roots of the great city like a virus. It was simply this: organised crime. The Sendoh and Rukawa families had been operating underground in Yokohama's black markets for over fifty years and their hold over the district was absolute. Corruption was abound, and beneath the calm surface of the city there were deadly currents. Gun crime and drug dealing. Murder and money. In the back alleys behind the luxurious and upmarket façade blood, both innocent and guilty, so often stained the streets.

To the south of the city was a jut of land which extended out like a finger into the Bay of Tokyo. It was called the Miura Peninsula and was known for miles of quiet sandy beaches where one could go if the hectic pace of city life became too much. How extraordinary the great difference in atmosphere only a short half-hour drive to the south could achieve. The lights and noise of the city would simply fade behind to be replaced with the lulling quiet of the ocean's peace.

Akira dug his hands into the twilight sand, enjoying the strange feeling of grainy resistance and withdrew them again. He threw his gaze out over the swirling sea waves, gazing towards the horizon. Perhaps he was seeing another world, another life, out there on the dancing waters. Or perhaps he saw only the inky blackness of the approaching night.

Anyone who saw him might have believed that he was a statue for he stayed so still, just gazing quietly forwards amongst his so many futile wishes. Beside him, half buried in the sand a gun sat unassumingly, almost with innocence, but well within his reach.

Though he hardly seemed much in all his current silent melancholy, this quiet boy was the eldest of two sons of the Sendoh house – the sole heir to the Sendoh drug empire – and reputed as one of the most talented businessmen in the black market.

The sound of the waves was lulling him into a trance when the sound of a familiar motorcycle roaring up to the edge of the beach caused Akira to turn his head. He watched a figure hop angrily off the machine, yank off his helmet with a vengeance and come charging across the sand in wrath.

"That bastard! Look!" The fireball of fury brandished a jacket wildly in front of his brother's face "Akira - look here!"

Akira obediently look a look at the gaping bullet hole punctured in the hem of the flapping jacket and sighed.

"I would say you've been lucky Hanamichi, it might have gone through your head."

The younger brother stopped ranting and glared at Akira for a second before collapsing next to him on the sand sulking.

"It was my favourite jacket…" he couldn't help but whine stubbornly, despite seeing the sense in his brother's words.

Akira laughed quietly at his brother's childishness. "Who did you run into? Some Rukawas?"

There was a heavy sigh. "Yeah, Hisashi."

"Oh right," Akira nodded sympathetically a few times, before querying, "Which one's he?"

"Akira!" Hanamichi protested, not bothering to hide his appalled tone.

"Well" Akira grumbled, looked away with a hint of embarrassment, "I'm not _forcing_ you to tell me or anything."

"Know thine enemies" Hanamichi quoted at him with a feigned air of superiority. Akira rolled his eyes in aspiration and ignored him.

The truth was that Akira had never met the Rukawa sons - either of them. The two families had very limited contact with each other now, and what little contact there was usually involved bullets. Mostly they just attempted to out-perform each other in business, competing for the best positions in their ventures of contraband and illegal substances, holding out their respective territories. There was no opportunity for the two sides to negotiate face to face; those days were long gone, lost back in time in the hundred years of rivalry they had endured. It was an ancient feud. Street fights were common enough among the younger generation whenever Rukawas and Sendohs inadvertently met, but Akira had never involved himself in such situations. Hanamichi however had quite a taste for confrontation.

"He's is the eldest of the two Rukawa sons" Hanamichi finally humbled himself to explain, recalling his encounter with Hisashi just an hour before. Nothing serious had occurred. The Rukawas had just been passing through on their way somewhere else and hadn't seemed interested in responding with much vigour to the Sendoh provocation. A few rounds fired, nothing more. Still Hanamichi had moved his group back deeper into Sendoh territory before Hisashi would have a chance to return with a larger group.

"Oh - is he the one they say is talented with a gun?"

"No - that's the other one, my age. _Kitsune_."

Sendoh snorted softly, amused at the nickname. "Kitsune?"

"He has weird kitsune eyes." Hanamichi elaborated. "And he has foxes engraved on the barrel of his gun. He's a bit weird."

"Weird, huh?" Akira picked up a nearby pebble and threw it into the sea idly. "What's his name?"

"Huh?"

"What's the name of this _kitsune_?"

"Oh um…" Hanamichi paused and blushed "…I can't remember" he admitted, with a great deal of embarrassment.

Akira laughed loudly on the deserted stretch of beach - "Know thine enemies huh?" he chortled. "Practise what you preach is more like it!" And he pounced on his unsuspecting brother, initiating a friendly - if somewhat rough - wrestling match in the sand. All kitsunes forgotten.

~tbc

ANs: Current version updated May 2011.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: This chapter has been entirely rewritten due to 1) the low quality of the previous version and 2) alterations to the storyline in later chapters. The detailed changes list follows at the end of the chapter.

All I can say is – good things come to those who complain! Thank you Kaiser.

**A Romeo and Juliet Story **

**Chapter 2**

_Version 2 was released 1__st__ Jan 2010. Replaced by this version (3) on 10__th__ April 2010._

Kaede stood before a full length mirror, staring through himself. The last smile of the sun caught a corner of the glass, sending knives of hazy, dust-laden light to fragment his reflected image. The unusually orange sunset brought out what little pigmentation there was in his skin, giving his entirely naked body a translucent yellow glow rather than its usual albino whiteness. His ebony hair, still wet from his recent shower, dropped sparkling beads of silver from the tips. Those bulbous molecules of water wound their way in rounded capsules down his bare back finally dropped onto the thick carpet at his feet, dampening it unpleasantly. He sighed quietly, and continued to stare at nothing.

Tonight would bring the party celebrating the fifteenth anniversary of his parent's marriage. Nothing more significant than custom decreed that Kaede had to attend. In fact his father would probably have preferred him to stay away; he would have preferred to avoid the complication of having to acknowledge his youngest and most notorious son at such an occasion. Kaede had already been instructed to avoid unnecessary conversation, as if he needed to be told such a thing, and informed that he would not be greeting the guests as Anzai and Hisashi would be doing.

An unusual displacement perhaps, but it was all just the result of Kaede's crumbled position within the family. Since the incident of six years ago he had become nothing more substantial than a shadow; an odd, empty void where a son ought to have been, and he had been so ever since. They'd dragged him down and then they'd abandoned him like a vase accidentally broken.

In reaction to his thoughts, his eyes flickered automatically over to the table where his two guns lay in an untidy heap along with their holster. His eyebrows ticked in the smallest indication of negative emotion. This wasn't the path he would have chosen for himself if he'd ever been given the chance to choose.

With a cool irony his strong, fifteen year-old body reflected fully in the mirror resiliently defied the cloudish texture of his identity. It was young and real. Despite being deceptively slender, the skin hid strong muscles and undeniably masculine strength. His face had naturally regal features, with fine, sharp lines; dramatic, high cheek bones and small, cherry-pursed lips. It wasn't a gentle face, but it did have a hint of femininity about it with its long black eyelashes and lily-white skin. But most striking of all about Kaede were his eyes. Blue eyes had always been a renowned characteristic of the Rukawa family, and yet the liquid vividness of Kaede's pure sapphire gaze was unmatched. Hisashi's eyes, by comparison, were only a light, faded blue of little note, much the same as his father's. That, too, struck him as being cruelly ironic.

There was a sudden, quiet rap at the door behind him. Kaede didn't make any indication that he had heard.

"It's me" said a familiar voice from beyond the woodwork.

The youngest Rukawa gave a small grunt of acknowledgement although the person behind the door would not have been able to hear the quiet sound. Nevertheless the handle turned smoothly and another boy slipped into the room, closing the door behind him with a gentle click.

Not in the least self-conscious about his nakedness, Kaede made no move to cover himself. He only watched the small figure of Kogure Kiminobu reflected pristinely in the clear glass silently. The boy was dressed eccentrically in a Romanesque armour set. His torso was covered by a breastplate which was shining like real bronze, and a rich, red cloak trailed from his shoulders, attached with intricate clasps. Strips of tan leather had been formed into a skirt-like dressing that covered his thighs, while his feet were in sandals secured with leather tongs criss-crossing up his calves.

Kogure's brown eyes glanced over at the clock on the wall, probably noting Kaede's tardiness, however he made no comment about the lateness of the time. Instead his eyes met Kaede's blue ones in the mirror and he smiled pleasantly.

"Shall I help you dress?"

He did not wait for a reply, being far too familiar with Kaede's ways to expect such a thing, and went towards the bed where Kaede's own costume was laid out. It seemed to represent a medieval prince's clothing. It consisted of two great squares of silk sewn together at the shoulders and sides to form a so-called _base_ which went over a simple chainmail hauberk and was belted at the waist. There was also a pair of thick, black breeches and black leather boots for his lower body, and a modest, unornamented crown for his head. The white silk outer covering was slashed into quarters by a dramatic red cross motif in the style of St. George's flag, and in each of the four sections displayed a blossoming white rose.

The pinpoint detail and great expense that must have gone into such elaborate costumes for a single party was staggering.

Kogure picked up the plain cotton under-shirt first and offered it in an outstretched hand.

"Here, this one first."

Kaede accepted the proffered garment and in doing so turned his eyes away from the reflection to look at the real Kogure properly for the first time. The pleasant, soft face of the only soul whom Kaede would consider a friend practically glowed with good-humour in the failing light. Someone at least was happily anticipating the party that evening.

"Who are you supposed to be?" he asked, "Caesar?"

Despite the overt masculinity of the Roman outfit, it did not quite manage to disguise Kogure's natural gentleness. He still looked lovely. The response to Kaede's question was a quiet chuckle.

"Oh no. I am Mark Anthony, can't you tell?"

"Next you will tell me that Hisashi is Cleopatra" the taller boy commented dryly.

Kogure smiled, "So you _do_ have a sense of humour after all." He passed the next component of the medieval costume to Kaede.

Piece by piece they assembled the image of the prince who stood patiently in the mirror. Kogure helped with straps and buckles wherever necessary, and Kaede was silent in his gratitude. He would not have tolerated such intimacy from anyone else.

Finally, once they were finished, Kaede examined his reflection.

"Who am I?" he asked curiously, apparently unmindful of the irony in such a poignant, philosophical question.

"Prince Hal, of course!"

Kaede stared at the unfamiliar image of himself. Shakespeare's renegade son – Prince Hal – who would come to defy his father's low opinion of him and rise up to become the greatest king of the era. He took a moment to curse the twisted sense of humour of whoever had picked out these costumes.

The small Mark Anthony beside him took his arm gently and smiled up at him. Not Caesar perhaps – not fated to terrible betrayal at least – but Mark Anthony nonetheless. A man who would meet death on a battlefield of defended love. The implications twisted in Kaede's gut.

Once again his blue eyes moved up and towards the pair of guns on the table, the one part of his costume that Kogure had unusually forgotten. It made him feel glad that his older friend must be in such a cheerful mood as to have neglected such a thing. Kogure followed his gaze and stopped.

"Oh." He said softly, reminded.

The smaller boy left Kaede's side to approach the table. The careful reverence with which he picked up one of the firearms was twistedly reminiscent of a monk raising a blessed chalice. He brought it up to his face as if smelling it, as if breathing it in. Kaede was well familiarised with Kogure's little fetish and did not react when he flicked out his small pink tongue and pressed it cautiously against the cool black metal. He reminded Kaede of a cat that will occasionally lick a hand in curiosity over what it must be like to be a dog. Glimpses of Kogure's masochism always reminded Kaede that, despite any illusions of stability, they were both as broken as each other.

Their eyes met briefly, Kaede's face typically blank, and Kogure lowered the gun with a fresh hint of blush crossing his cheeks following his usually well-concealed deviation. He turned away and fiddled with the holster also on the table, fixing the guns inside, and then presented the whole thing to Kaede ceremoniously. The Rukawa son took them and secured them out of sight under his silken _base_.

A glance at the clock on the wall told him that they were now forty-five minutes late. His father would no doubt be livid. Kogure smiled sweetly up at him and once again took his arm just as the final suggestion of sunset disappeared from the horizon, ushering them fully into the carnival of the night.

**At my poor house look to behold his night;**

**Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light.**

With a light-footed jog and a jump through the dusk Sendoh Akira slammed the ball into the unguarded net with all his strength, causing the whole structure to groan and bend with the impact. He hung onto the hoop for a moment despondently, knowing that the whole thing would have given him that much more satisfaction if there was actually someone to play against. Too often he found himself alone like this.

Akira was outwardly social. Most people liked him, trusted his open manner and instinctively wished to please him, often without even realising it. But dealing with people was a simple exercise for him - forging contacts, business deals; it was all just a matter of talking and smiling. He found no attraction in the shadier, more dishonest aspects of rhetoric, politics and manoeuvring. Somehow he managed to sail through a corrupt and greedy world with little damage to the frank and innocent nature of his soul. Even the pressure of being heir to his father did not faze him. It was all quite simple. Talk, smile, and make money.

It was e_asy_ in fact.

Too easy to sustain his personality which became quickly bored with routine and desired continually the fresh motivation of new experience.

A quiet smattering of applause caused him to release his grip on the rim of the hoop and drop to the floor. He looked up in some surprise at the girl he hadn't heard approaching his solitary practise. He fixed his face into a cheeky smile and waved a hand to dismiss the applause as if there was absolutely nothing wrong in his world.

"My, my, you look down, Akira-kun."

His face straightened out into a less frantic smile, confronted by such keen perception. The girl watching him was Yayoi Aida, his close cousin, but more like a sister to Akira. Having known each other since early childhood it was hard for him to hide anything from her acute insight. He faltered in embarrassment.

"Not down, just…" he paused, wondering what name to give to his gloomy mood.

"…bored?" Her eyes were twinkling with amusement.

Akira cocked his head to one side and grinned sheepishly.

"You were at the meeting earlier right?" Yayoi asked, and fished something out of the rear pocket of her jeans.

"About the masquerade?" he thought back to the discussion which had finished a few hours ago. Hikoichi, Yayoi's resourceful younger brother, had managed to procure invitations to the exclusive Rukawa celebration and Akira's father Taoka, not one to miss an opportunity, had elected to send a group of Sendohs on an information-gathering exercise. Since the ball was fancy-dress it ought to be a fairly simple matter to slip in unidentified.

"You ever seen the Rukawa mansion, Akira-kun?" she asked as she flipped the card she'd secreted away over with a grin to reveal elaborate gold lettering on the textured surface, glittering in the sun's fading light. Her smile became somewhat triumphant as Akira took the invitation from her unresisting hands, hesitating slightly as though it might not be real.

"No, I haven't" he replied almost dazedly, in answer to her question.

"Want to?"

His face broke out into a bright, genuine smile, entirely unlike the theatrical ones he had faked so far.

"How did you get this?" he asked in excited curiosity.

"Well, Hikoichi got four, but he only told your father about three."

Akira's grin was incomparably wide and his eyes glittered. He did not have a confrontational personality; in fact some in the family even mutteringly accused him of being a pacifist. While it was true enough that he didn't go looking for trouble, he understood all too well the violent necessities of his world. His reluctance to become involved in the gang-like wars on the streets meant that his contact with the rival Rukawa family had been minimal, although not for want of curiosity on his part. But this was a different kind of opportunity…

The excursion had already been discussed in fine detail at the meeting earlier. A small group of two men and one woman would be taking neither bugs nor firearms as they attempted to enter the party. Their priority was to gain access without causing suspicion and so they needed to appear as much like genuine guests as possible. Once inside, the task of using the rear entrance from the main courtyard in order to access the upper floors was unlikely to attract attention or cause complications. Even if they were stopped, acting as if they were drunk or looking for a bedroom would likely get them thrown out but nothing more serious.

If Akira accompanied them inside he could meet up with them once their task had been completed, leaving him with plenty of time to take a curious look around.

The gold lettering of the invitation reflected in his eyes much like the golden flesh of the apple must have glittered with promise for Eve.

For Akira it was just a new way to pass the time.

"I got your costume all ready" Yayoi said a wink.

**Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars**…

Kaede kept his back to the wall and watched the movement around him impassively. He was like a heron motionless and dull as the dancing waters, glittering and jewel-like passed worthless around his feet.

His eyes roamed about the grand ballroom, seeking out the obvious round figure of his father and his tall half-brother with full Champaign flumes in their hands, conversing with some unfamiliar businessmen. Kogure was at Hisashi's side as usual, looking adorable in his Roman outfit. Hisashi was wearing flowing silk robes in blue and white and carrying a tall wooden wizard's staff. _Prospero,_ Kaede had identified immediately; Shakespeare's magician, the wielder of absolute power over those around him and the one who bends even nature and the elements to his whims. He nearly grimaced.

Kaede and Hisashi had never been close. Despite similarities in their physical appearance, their personalities diverged beyond compromise. The hostility between them was compounded since they didn't share the same mother, meaning that since childhood they had been locked in an instinctive competition with each other, angling for their father's affections. However, being the eldest son was not a position that Kaede envied. The younger boy had no desire for their positions to be reversed. He saw constantly the stress and weight that Hisashi felt on his shoulders as, day by day, the calm, easy-going child his brother had once been gave way to a calculating, suspicious man who would one day inherit the Rukawa drug empire. Of course, Kaede had his own set of concerns, but occasionally he found he had room to pity his older half-brother.

Kaede was not particularly bothered by being left alone, outcast at the side of the hall - it suited his reclusive personality well enough; but to see so close by the world in which he was so unwillingly trapped and from which he was simultaneously so determinedly excluded caused an uncomfortable sensation of futility. He did not like to be reminded of what he was, or more accurately, of what he was not. He felt suddenly stifled, as if Hisashi, Prospero, and the whole of the colourful party were suffocating him. It was all so heart-wrenchingly senseless.

He turned abruptly on his heel and headed for the glass door which led to the outside courtyard, seeking the silent forgetfulness of the moonlight.

**Men's eyes were made to look  
And let them gaze.  
**

For several minutes upon entering through the main doors Akira had simply stood, staring in wonder at the splendour of the Rukawa mansion. While the Sendoh family wealth certainly rivalled if not equalled the Rukawa's, Akira's father did not deem it necessary to spend undue money on the estate. The Sendoh family home, while of a similar size and scale, did not boast anything like the luxurious decoration and grandeur visible here.  
There was a majestic, sweeping staircase running to the upper floor where Akira could see couples walking along the way, looking down at the strangers and newcomers in the entrance way. A magnificent doorway straight ahead led the guests into the main reception hall, where a swing band was performing on a high stage and a colourful multitude of guests were swirling around each other on the wooden dance floor. At the edges of the floor the wood stopped to be replaced with rich red carpets, thick and vibrant, where the round dinning tables and chairs stood for people to sit and watch the dancing. The walls were creamy like cafe lait and there were tall windows which looked out over the dark gardens and grounds of the house where gentle lighting highlighted the sparkling fountains on white gravel pathways in the darkness. Portraits of the Rukawa family ancestors were hung in ornate golden frames between the windows giving the finishing touch to the complete opulence of the hall.

Akira adjusted his costume as he entered, making sure that the mask that covered the majority of his face was secure in place. Yayoi had arranged a beautiful black tailcoat in the Regency era style complete with a golden waistcoat and an alluring white knotted ruff at the neck which gave the illusion that if one tugged at it the whole thing might come undone. His white dress pants and black riding boots completed the look which, truth be told, was of a too early period to really be suitable for his character. He had quickly realised that a mask was going to be a necessity for his little adventure so, despite the small discrepancy in his costume, he had transformed into Leroux's _Erik l__e Fantôme _easily enough. He quite liked the oddity in fact; the Phantom as a man who wished only to live a normal life, displaced once again in time, as though nothing could ever be normal for him.

The round form of Rukawa was easily noticeable in the room where he stood, two handsome young men on his left who were each dressed in elaborate costumes suitable for the party. The man was talking animatedly to a couple of associates, extending his hand to indicate the two boys by his side by way of introduction, and all four bowed.  
Akira found it interesting to notice how the shorter boy bowed much lower than the men, whereas the taller boy only inclined his head slightly in recognition.  
Akira found himself standing on tip-toe and straining to see across the room with interest.  
_The two sons…_ he thought.  
The first, the one who'd hardly bowed, had to be Hisashi. The heir to all this. He was handsome, devilishly so, a light smirk playing about his lips as he surveyed the two new acquaintances. He looked somewhat reckless, rouged around the edges, one of the boys. But there was also a shred, calculating look in his eyes. Imposing, good-looking, a distinct air of confidence: Akira could immediately see why Hanamichi, with his confrontational and fiery personality, found a natural rival in him.  
The second boy was smaller, slighter and had a ready smile on his lips. A pair of thin rimmed glasses decorated his pretty face and an ever so slightly too long fringe kept falling into his soft brown eyes, causing him to brush it repeatedly out of the way with an adorable annoyance.

Akira was mildly surprised that Hanamichi's description of the boy had been so inaccurate. There were no piercing, hostile eyes, and nothing about the sweet creature looked remotely fox-like. The open, smiling face was kind and gentle, able to extract a smile from the most prudish looking men. Akira felt strangely drawn to him, as though the boy were a rare light in the darkness. He seemed so pleasant Akira would have liked to speak to him. He stared, intrigued, for a long moment. Looking at Hisashi made him feel a little uncomfortable. It was like looking into a distorted mirror. They held the same positions within two very similar families and yet they were as far apart in temperament as it was possible to be. The thought made his eyebrows crease.

He moved along the wall at the side of the room, trying his best to avoid the area wherever Anzai and his two young companions were greeting people, his eyes drinking their fill of this alien world. Eventually he came to a door which led out into the cool night. A chill wind came through it, reminding him that it was still early spring, and the weather had not yet warmed. His companions had already been gone for twenty minutes, and Akira wondered whether it was getting close to the right time to meet up with them. Without further consideration, he went outside.

He found himself immediately in a gravel courtyard with beautiful ceramic pots and a delicate Grecian fountain lit with soft lighting. Mindful that the lighting also made him visible to those inside the ballroom he moved quickly through the cool night air, the gravel crunching under his feet until he reached the soft grass which marked the border of the informal gardens. It was as if he had walked through an invisible barrier causing the sounds of merriment to fade behind him, and leaving him in an altogether different world. The view before him across the unlit, well-tended parkland which surrounded the estate in acres was breathtaking. It was such a contrast to the theatrical colours and costumes which were trapped like so many butterflies inside the house behind him. In the absence of light the entire space was coloured with hues of grey, the grass and trees which would be bright and brilliant with green in the sunshine took on a more mystical, subdued and less distinct form, highlighted only with white moonlight. He felt as if he had walked out of reality and into impressionism. Illusion crackled along his skin like electricity, causing the fine hairs on his arms to rise in the silent, mystic air of this midnight garden.

Nearby, tumbling across the view of the parkland was a sparse line of young saplings and older trees which, he knew from the sounds of water he could hear, marked the passage of a stream or brook. The largest and most beautiful of the trees was a mature weeping willow which seemed to be trailing her tress-like branches in the icy water. She was twisted to one side, as if turning her head to wash her hair, the branches of leaves falling almost exclusively to one side of her moon-kissed shoulders, leaving her other side mostly bare.

Akira stopped and stared.

There was a boy there; standing under the moon on the tree's naked right. He had his back to the house, and to Akira, silent and unmoving. The moonlight adored him, taking away all the colour of his costume and leaving him almost an unearthly being, just air shrouded in shadows and light creating an illusion of human form. The moon was most concentrated upon the silver-shine hilt of the long sword the boy was wearing as part of his costume. The bright curve of reflected moonshine seemed like an accidental blank upon the canvas tempered with blacks and greys. It was as if the artist had failed to apply paint at the point, giving the illusion of a void, a blank, where actually the vision was at its most concentrated.

Akira looked around for any sign of a companion for the boy. It seemed unlikely that he would be standing out here alone when the party was his to enjoy. He ought to be meeting someone, a midnight lover perhaps, but Akira could see no one. He pondered the scene silently.

Alone, abandoned in the mourning moonlight, the image ought to have been one of loneliness, sadness, despair. But something about the way the boy was standing - the proud back, resolute shoulders and secure tilt of the head - overturned any such impression. He looked small and alone and yet he looked as if he was challenging the world; unafraid and undefeated.

Akira felt inexplicably drawn to that strength of spirit, and actually took two enchanted steps forwards. Voices behind him made him stop.

He turned his head and saw that his companions had appeared in the courtyard behind him, obviously having just returned from their venture to the upper floors. They caught sight of him and waved in greeting, calling him back to the solidity of the building, indicating that it was time to go.

Feeling the magic of the moment diluted he turned back to the boy he had been secretly watching with such interest and was astonished. The noise had also attracted the stranger's attention and the face had turned to look back over his shoulder to assess the cause of the commotion.

In that despairing scene of black and grey one colour came alive: blue. The moon's magic, which drained so readily the fresh beauty of the trees and the grasses could not, for all her power, suppress the blue of the eyes which fixed upon Akira now. He stared, transfixed, at that flash of life before the boy changed the angle of his head and the sapphires receded into blackness behind the fall of his fringe. Akira was struck by the particularly fine features and graceful form of the boy. He was put in mind of a nymph, something neither male nor female, but beautiful in an altogether otherworldly sense.

It was only then, with a jolt of horror, that he realised that he had lowered his mask. He had done it absent-mindedly upon stepping out into the darkness of the garden. The enchantment around him was utterly dispelled as adrenaline seized him and he snapped that protective facial wear up to his face in desperate defence. What if he had been recognised?

He felt as if his heart stopped in the tense moments that followed while the unknown boy continued to gaze at his now covered face serenely for longer than Akira would have liked. Finally, with slow, smooth movements the boy turned back to gaze once again at the moonlight stream that ran at his feet.

Akira was stunned. He was thankful that he could release his breath in a rush, but at the same time he felt himself entirely dismissed. He'd been so enchanted by that boy, who had in his turn not seemed in the least interested in Akira. It felt as if the scales were unbalanced, skewed, as if something had gone wrong, a mistake had been made, an opportunity missed, somehow.

Akira turned away regretfully from that dreamlike garden to rejoin his companions, and the moonlight continued her sorrowful vigil over the soulless boy undisturbed.

**Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,  
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will.**

-TBC

Detail of alterations:

Kogure has been added to this chapter due to storyline changes.

Koshino has been removed from this chapter due to storyline changes.

Sendoh Akira's characterisation has been revised to make his visit to the party less gob-stoppingly random.

Rukawa Kaede's characterisation has been revised to make him more Kaede-like and less wet-blanket-ish :D

Minor allusions to Kaede's past have been incorporated.

Costumes have been added because they're smecky – mwah! Shakespeare's characters from other plays have been used because I'm jammy like that. And because Prince Hal is awesome.

I got stuck on Akira's costume because he needed a mask -.-" Zoro was too similar to Kaede's costume (with a sword and all) so I only had Phantom of the Opera. I don't really think the crazed, deformed, obsessive, dislikeable nutcase is exactly suited to Akira but… oh well. Other suggestions are welcome. As for the Regency costume, that's modelled on Colin Firth's Mr. Darcy because that's just freaking hot. Phwor.


	3. Chapter 3

**A Romeo and Juliet Story**

**Chapter 3 **

Kaede slid onto the bike, feeling the powerful motor purring between his thighs. He wasn't the enthusiastic biker than Hisashi was, but it was still his preferred means of transport. He liked the speed and convenience, but most of all he liked the solitude. He could go wherever he wanted at his own leisure, enjoy the sights of the city, or even go further a-field into the countryside and be alone.

For the moment, however, he was going no where more exciting than the local basketball courts. Enjoying the power underneath him he clipped the chin strap on his black helmet closed and leant forward to grasp the handle bars. He revved the engine once, twice, and then urged the bike forwards with a full-throated roar, speeding through the tall gates of the estate in a spray of gravel.

The small blue duffel-bag on his back bounced gently as he sailed down the roads, hearing the sound of the engine filling the space around him as it echoed deliciously off the houses he passed. This particular bike had been a gift from Akagi for the younger Rukawa son. It was a Yamaha, and had been custom tuned for track racing. The paint was lime green with a thin red zigzag motif. Not what Kaede would have personally chosen perhaps, but he didn't dislike it nonetheless. He wasn't particularly well-versed on motorbike mechanics, but he understood that the alterations to the bike improved its road performance quite considerably, increasing straight-line acceleration and stability.

He passed through the local neighbourhood without paying much attention; the route being so familiar he didn't even have to concentrate on which way to go. He often came to the public facilities here. The Rukawa estate naturally had its own courts, but Kaede preferred to get away from the house, the servants, guests, his father's and Hisashi's lackeys, in order to enjoy his favourite pastime in privacy. Perhaps he was bringing unnecessary security risks upon himself by going out alone in this way, but he didn't care. Besides, he was currently a fairly low-profile figure within the family so he didn't think he would be a natural target. Surely anyone looking to threaten the Rukawas would go through Hisashi.

It seemed that he was only just starting to enjoy into the ride when he realised that he was all-too-soon approaching the courts which were his destination. He rounded the final corner onto a quiet residential back-street where the familiar sight of the red fencing marking the entrance to the grassy park met his eyes. He drew up to the kerb and jumped the bike off the road onto the pavement and drove straight over the grass to the furthest side of the field where the basketball courts were situated. The bike's suspension was very firm, so he felt the roughness of the ground vibrating up his arms and cheeks. This park was fairly large, almost entirely open grass bordered by a thick, scrubby growth of trees. At the centre of the lawn was a children's playground complete with swings, slide and sandpit. Around the edges were areas devoted to various sports including full size basketball and tennis courts. Football posts were set up further out in the field. At this time of the morning the place was always deserted. When he arrived at the edge of the basketball tarmac he drew to a gradual stop and dropped a foot to the floor. With an easy, fluid motion he lifted his arms and removed his helmet, shaking his fine hair loose. Even as he did so a monotonous sound reached his ears. A ball bouncing regularly on concrete. He looked up towards the court and was irritated to see that someone was already there.

Akira had noticed the park the previous night. He too enjoyed basketball and he too had the advantage of having private courts at his home. However, he liked the idea of visiting the community courts on the chance of finding a new challenger. He knew that basketball was not meant to be played alone, although he still spent many hours in solitary practise. If there was a chance of finding a real person to play with or against he would gladly leave home to practice outside. Unfortunately, the courts around the Ryonan district were badly maintained, covered in graffiti and damaged by a generation of vandals, so he rarely bothered to visit them. Therefore, when he had passed this way on his secret visit to the party last night and had seen the excellent condition of the Shohoku public courts he had resolved to visit them for his practise. He knew he was running a small risk, moving into Rukawa territory, but the park was still a good mile away from the Rukawa house, and he didn't seriously predict any problems. Besides, it was the morning after a night of revelling. Those loyal to Rukawa would have attended the event, danced the night away, and would probably still be sleeping at this early hour.

When he had first heard the sound of the approaching bike however, he had looked up in concern that it might be a hostile group. Upon seeing that the rider was solitary he quickly relaxed. Weighing the situation up, he decided that a single individual would not be much of a threat to him. He dribbled the ball absent-mindedly as he watched the new arrival pull to a stop beside the court. His eyes followed the long, thin arms that reached up and tugged at the plain black helmet. Before it was removed he could already see the almost ethereal milky skin of the swan neck. His eyes followed the movement of the hands as the helmet was finally removed to reveal the raven black hair, feathered fringe and startling blue eyes of the boy he had seen the night before.

He couldn't believe his luck. Any thought of danger fled at the chance of being able to converse with the beautiful creature he had only glimpsed so briefly at the masquerade. A foolish grin spread across his features. The newcomer gave a sensuous shake of his head, his fringe falling across his eyes and then, for the first time registering the sound of the ball on the tarmac, he looked up and met Akira's gaze.

He was as fascinating to behold as Akira remembered. The blue eyes devoid of emotion and yet at the same time full of paradoxical depth drew Akira's gaze like a magnet. The young Sendoh opened his mouth to give a greeting but the stranger had already broken their eye-contact with feigned disinterest. With slow, cat-like movements he swung his leg over the bike and stood beside it, hanging his helmet from one of the handlebars and shrugging a small blue bag off his back.

In fact Kaede recognised the face he'd only half seen at the party. It was a handsome young man with bright eyes and an easy smile. He didn't know why the face had stayed in his memory, in fact he couldn't even recall the situation when he'd seen it, but the recognition was definite enough. He was curious to know who he was, not recalling having ever seen him before. Perhaps he was one of the Myagis? He knew the family had several sons. He felt no undue suspicion. The boy had been at the family party and as such must be an ally of the family.

Kaede unzipped his heavy leather jacket, conscious of Akira's eyes on him. He also had to wiggle out of his leather riding pants and he draped the discarded clothes over the bike. Underneath his leathers he was wearing a simple white t-shirt with a black Nike logo and knee-length sports shorts in white and blue. He did a few gentle stretches while Akira turned his attention back to the shooting practise which had been under way before the other boy's arrival. Although he continued to shoot baskets his mind was not really on the task. He was waiting with apprehension for the boy to finally approach, and to hear again that soft sensuous voice.

He was rewarded when a voice spoke, from close behind him, although he had not heard the boy's footsteps.

"I saw you last night."

Akira turned back and came face to face with him. A large smile, starting from his lips and filling up his eyes, appeared on his handsome features. "That's right." He confirmed.

"Who are you?" the boy demanded immediately. Akira blinked in some surprise at the direct and unfriendly nature of the question. He hadn't been expecting such an aggressive opening.

"Uhm..." he thought quickly. There wasn't any harm in revealing his first name. It was a common enough name in any case, "My name is Akira."

The boy looked at him curiously and Akira was aware that it was unusual not to provide a family name. He hoped the stranger wouldn't press him on the matter because he wasn't sure what he could say. Luckily the boy seemed to be prepared to accept the information without further question. He turned away and started to dribble the ball he had removed from his bag.

"Hey... wait..." Akira spoke.

A glance back over a shoulder; mild irritation in his eyes.

"You haven't given me _your_ name."

A look of genuine surprise flickered momentarily on that pale face although it was gone as soon as it came. Kaede had naturally assumed that the boy was aware of his identity. He was, after all, the second son of the family itself, second in line to the Rukawa Empire. He was well known as _the kitsune_. In the face of Akira's ignorance he felt considerably wrong-footed, and nearly frowned in puzzlement although he quickly managed to control his features not to reveal that moment of confusion. If the boy didn't know his identity then....

"Kaede."

"Huh?"

"My name is Kaede."

He mimicked Akira's tactic of not revealing his family name. Somehow the idea of being anonymous suddenly appealed to him. The falseness, subservience and fear he received from the servants and house allies irritated him. It would be nice to avoid that for a little while. After all, wasn't it the main reason he chose to practise here; to get away from those annoyances? Content with his decision he nodded slightly to himself.

Akira noticed the lack of family name but, in the face of his own concealment, knew it wasn't his right to ask more. He tried to remember if he'd heard the name Kaede before. Rukawa's eldest son was called Hisashi, he was sure of that, and besides he had seen him at the party with his father and the other boy, and so Akira would have recognised him now. Since no memory came to him he decided that this boy must be from one of the allied families; the Myagi or the Akagi families perhaps. He knew he was probably pushing his luck, inviting one his enemies to play with him, but he didn't think any harm would come of it in the end. He smiled and spoke;

"One on one?"

Kaede had already started moving to the far end of the court to pursue his own solitary practise but Akira's words made him stop and turn back to consider him. He didn't really want to waste his time with others but at the same time something uncomfortable was growling inside him: his pride. He didn't like to admit it, even to himself, but perhaps he was slightly offended at not being recognised, being as used as he was to hearing the word -_sama_ tacked onto the end of his name, no matter how much it annoyed him. His pride was insistent within him. Perhaps if he could defeat this nameless stranger in a game he would feel better about it. He dropped his now surplus ball, which rolled obediently away to the side of the court, and nodded to indicate that he accepted the challenge.

Akira looked pleased, "first to ten" he proclaimed. Kaede's only response was to drop his body into a low, focused defence, his eyes following the movement of the ball. Akira recognised the seriousness in his opponent's face and felt excited at the prospect of a rival. With only a couple of seconds of consideration he made an immediate drive towards the basket. He thought he had allowed a sufficient amount of space and was therefore surprised to see Kaede's hand suddenly in the path of the ball. It took all his wits to turn his body away to protect his possession. Kaede only managed to brush the ball with the tips of his fingers. Akira pushed back into the boy, their bodies gentle bumping one another, trying to force him to give way, but the boy was firm in his place and still reaching for the ball which was in danger of being taken at any moment. With a swift and sudden spin Akira dodged away, aiming to power around Kaede towards the basket. For a moment he thought he was successful, but almost immediately Kaede was there again at his side, pressuring him, a lithe and pale hand making another attempt to take the ball. Akira stopped short. He couldn't shake the boy so he took another option: a shot. He was some way outside the key, but at close enough range to still have excellent accuracy. Relying on the defending boy to have to take a couple of extra steps following the sudden stop he allowed himself a moment to sight carefully. He released the ball gracefully, with perfect precision, all within a moment. He was considerably surprised when he saw Kaede's hand rising up to meet the airborne ball. The younger boy was too late to block the shot, but he managed to nudge it most definitely with the tips of his fingers. Akira watched in disbelief as the ball sailed towards the basket, bashed into the ring with an echoing boom, and fell out.

In the silence that followed the two just stood and stared at each other. It occurred to each of them in turn that they had seriously underestimated the other one. In response to this realisation Akira's face broke out into a grin, while Kaede's descended into a scowl.

After a moment Kaede again broke their eye contact and went to retrieve the ball. It was now his turn to attack and he wouldn't underestimate his opponent again. His eyes showed that his battle spirit was beginning to blaze. Akira, by contrast, remained cool and collected, amused at the frustrations of his new rival. They continued their game.

The score was 8-4 in Akira's favour when they were interrupted. They had been playing for about twenty minutes and both were hot and panting with their efforts. Each point was a true battle. They measured so closely to each other in ability that it took a long time for either of them to make any headway in the drive to score. However, Akira knew that the advantage, as tiny was it was, was his. He was ever so slightly faster, more focused, and more controlled. While on any one point the difference was hardly noticeable, over the course of their numerous battles his advantage began to show.

He had just taken the shot that would give him a two-basket lead for the first time when a distinct sound reached both their ears. It wasn't a sound you would expect to hear at a park. A quiet little mechanical click. It was the noise of a gun being gently cocked.

**A dog of that house.**

Kaede and Akira had both been raised in the same environment. They had been trained from a very young age how to fight and defend. They both lived in permanent danger of assassination simply on account of being their father's sons. They were as sensitive to the noises of a gun, the smallest indication of danger, as it was possible to be. They both heard the sound, although you and I might not have even noticed it, and in a reaction so trained that it was almost instinctive they both dropped to a crouch. The ball rolled away, suddenly entirely forgotten.

Akira did not have his gun on him but Kaede did. As the young Rukawa dropped, his hand flew into the holster under his shirt and drew it out at a lightning speed, cocking the hammer quickly in one smooth action. Before Akira was even fully crouched on the ground, Kaede's gun was trained on the man who had just stepped out of the trees. Kaede too was in a crouch, and the gun he had raised was only inches away from Akira's face. Unfortunately Akira was too much distracted by the arrival of the man to look at it properly. If he had, perhaps he would have seen the engravings there that Hanamichi had warned him about. For down the barrel of the otherwise plain black piece, silver foxes were dancing.

The man that had just stepped out of the thick tree line was tall, taller than either of them by some margin, which was no small feat since Akira and Kaede were themselves both over six foot. His shoulders were broad and tanned, the toned muscles of his upper body clear to see for he wore only a tight fitting tank top. His lips were large and his eyes had something of a permanent daze about them, as though he were a heavy user of drugs. Most striking was his hair, which was blond and wavy, most unusual in Japan.

Kaede recognised the man instantly as his brother's closest friend.

"Tetsuo...." he said, a note of confusion in his voice. Tetsuo didn't spare him a glance. His eyes and his gun were trained exclusively on Akira. Out of the corner of his eye Akira saw Kaede lowering his gun and his heart sank in realisation of his situation. The lowering of Kaede's gun was symbolic to him. For a moment, only a fleeting moment, the two of them, himself and Kaede, had been banded together against one enemy. For a moment, Kaede's gun had been protecting him. Now it lowered, and he realised with shock that he was alone here. These two were both his enemies. His eyes flashed towards his black sports bag which he'd earlier discarded at the side of the court. Inside was his gun. Why hadn't he kept it on him?

"Well, well, well...." Tetsuo muttered, smirking. "Look at this big fish I've caught."

Kaede now rose out of his crouch, but he didn't return his gun to its holster or make any move to uncock it, instead letting it hang against the smooth, silk-like fabric of his sport shorts, still loaded and ready to fire. He took a step towards Tetsuo so that he stood between the two men, his back to Akira, however Akira couldn't bring himself to even glance at him. He couldn't take his eyes off the gun pointed his way as though entranced by it. He'd never experienced such a situation before. He'd never involved himself in the Rukawa-Sendoh feud, and while he knew how to shoot and defend himself and all the principles of gang-warfare, he rarely ever had to put his knowledge to use. As the dangerous situation he was in became more and more realised in his mind he saw more and more of his mistakes. He'd discarded his weapon. He'd entered Rukawa territory. He'd come alone. He'd voided almost half of the essential rules of survival. What would Hanamichi have to say about his idiocy later? He blinked in surprise at his own thoughts. The way it was looking, he might not ever see Hanamichi again.

"Tetsuo..." Kaede said in a low, warning voice "...explain yourself."

He'd been called Akira Sendoh since his birth. Eighteen years to live with a name. How many times had he heard it said, addressed to him, talking about him, even printed in the newspapers? Before this day he'd never been ashamed of his name, hadn't sought to hide it or keep it a secret, he'd never been anything other than proud of who he was. But now he recognised his name, passing those large, smirking lips, for what it was - a death toll.

"Stand up, Akira Sendoh."

That was all he said. That was all he had to say.

Kaede's back stiffened. With slow, practised movements he turned back to look again at Akira, who willed his legs to push him up and out of his crouch. He didn't know where to look. He wasn't the type to look at the ground in shame, but he didn't want to provoke either of his enemies by staring directly at them. Instead he kept looking at Tetsuo's gun. His identity had been revealed, and now he was in trouble. Real trouble.

"Ah." That was all Kaede said. It like more like a breath of air than an utterance.

**Too early seen unknown...**

Kaede, like Akira, was mentally reprimanding himself. How could he have accidentally put himself in such a dangerous situation? He'd made the foolish assumption that Akira was a Rukawa ally simply because he'd seen him at the party, despite the fact that he didn't even know his family name, didn't know his identity. It had been a potentially serious mistake. If Tetsuo hadn't arrived when he had perhaps Akira would have found an opportunity to attack him.

This was no small fry. This was actually _the_ Akira Sendoh, the sole heir of Sendoh himself. Although Kaede had never seem the man before he felt foolish for not being able to recognise him, especially since Tetsuo clearly had. Of course, Kaede did not involve himself in the petty street wars that Hisashi so enjoyed, his role was much more secretive, but it was really no excuse. He should have known better. The fact that Sendoh Akira had been at his father's party was a worrying anomaly as well. It meant that the Sendohs had wound their tendrils closer to the Rukawa family than was comfortable.

And yet… Akira hadn't seemed like much of a threat. He still didn't, truth be told. Kaede hadn't seen him at these courts before, but Kaede himself only came here intermittently. If this meeting was in fact an attempt to take his life, there were better places that Akira could have waited for him. He really didn't come here often enough, or reliably enough, to make this a potential location for his assassination.

Kaede stared openly at Akira, scrutinising him. He gazed straight into the other boys blue eyes, much like his own, and searched his face and his posture for any hint of guilt, for the telling sheen of blood in his gaze, the look of a killer, an assassin, a look Kaede knew so well. For a long time Kaede stared, but he failed to find what he was looking for.

He didn't take his eyes away from Akira, who was still looking pointedly at Tetsuo's gun. The young Sendoh's face was a mask. His mouth, which had earlier been smiling so readily, was drawn into a thin line. His eyes, although focussed, were dull and unseeing. He didn't move even a hair's breadth, held in place by Tetsuo's firearm. There was no emotion to be seen, no fear, no arrogance, no guilt.

Kaede frowned, and then spoke.

"I'm going to ask you a question. Answer truthfully, because your life depends on it."

Akira's eyes flickered towards him for an instant before returning irresistibly to the gun. Kaede took this to mean that he had understood. The younger boy moved towards him slowly, coming within a breath of his arm, and at this closer range he could see the beads of sweat on Akira's forehead. Despite the external calm, the boy's mind was probably a blur of activity. Kaede leaned even closer, as though whispering in his ear a secret. He pronounced the words slowly and clearly.

"Do you know who I am?"

A small line of puzzlement appeared in Akira's brow. He didn't know what question he had been expecting, but this certainly wasn't it. He felt a hand on his cheek, gently turning his head. He allowed himself to be moved. The final thing to turn were his eyes, which watched the gun until the last possible moment, when they flicked to focus on Kaede's face, only a breath away from his own. Kaede repeated the question with more insistence;

"Do you know who I am?"

Akira thought that the deep blue eyes so close to his were trying to tell him something. Some secret message. He didn't know what. He gazed into them, mesmerised for a moment. And then he slowly shook his head. No. He didn't know who he was.

Kaede's eyebrow twitched slightly in interest. Then he gave the briefest of nods. Akira couldn't help but feel like a drowning man who had just been thrown a lifeline.

Kaede drew back from him and removed his hand from his face. He turned his eyes to Tetsuo.

"Put that thing down." He commanded. "He doesn't even have a gun."

Tetsuo grimaced, "How do you know that?"

"I checked."

Akira thought of their one-on-one scuffles which suddenly seemed like decades ago. Their bodies had been pressed together as they fought for the ball. Kaede had been wearing a gun in a holster under his shirt all that time and Akira hadn't even noticed. He chalked up another big mistake on his expanding list. But while Akira had been oblivious to such a thing, Kaede had apparently been paying close attention.

Reluctantly, Tetsuo lowered his gun. Akira felt like he could finally breathe again and let out a long stream of air, although he knew he wasn't out of danger yet.

Kaede was bending down to retrieve his basketball. He returned his gun to its holster finally. It was as though he was incredibly bored with the whole scenario. Tetsuo had taken his eyes away from Akira to watch him.

"You're.... you're not going to let him go, are you?"

Akira sucked the breath he had just released back in and held it.

With feigned disinterest, Kaede glanced at Tetsuo, and back at Akira. He raised an eyebrow in puzzlement.

"Yes. I am."

Tetsuo's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You... fool! Don't you realise who he is?"

Kaede gave a small, knowing smile. Akira watched it in fascination. Kaede didn't elaborate on his reasoning. Perhaps he felt he shared something with Akira after their close-run games. Perhaps he pitied him. Perhaps he was simply waiting for another day. Whatever it was, it was impossible to say. The younger boy began to turn to walk towards his bike.

Panicking slightly Tetsuo called out to him "Kaede-sama!" but to no effect. He just kept walking.

Akira looked quickly at Tetsuo in surprise. Kaede-_sama_?

Tetsuo's voice was unnaturally strained as he continued, "Hisashi will kill you for this!"

At that Kaede paused in his stride. His shoulders rose and fell in a sigh of resignation and he quirked his head to one side without looking back.

"What my idiotic brother does is not your concern" he said very softly, the phrase merely a quiet breath on the wind.

**...and known too late.**

"Kitsune?" Akira murmured the word in realisation. He thought of Kaede's piercing blue eyes. Were they fox-like? Yes, perhaps, but then, who was the other boy? The one with glasses he had seen? The one he had assumed was the younger Rukawa son? He groaned to himself; yet another big mistake.

Kaede turned back and fixed Akira with a final piercing stare, "My name is Kaede Rukawa." He narrowed his eyes and continued; "and you, Akira Sendoh, need to leave this place. Now."

It seemed that was all he said to say, because he dismissed Akira with a swift turn on his heel and continued to stride towards the motorbike still parked at the edge of the tarmac. Tetsuo reluctantly followed the slight boy towards to the bike, but not without giving Akira a final look of unmistakable hatred. Somehow Akira knew that next time they met there would certainly be bloodshed.

Kaede didn't bother to put his leathers back on. Instead he stuffed them into the duffel-bag and quickly started the engine. Tetsuo climbed onto the back of the bike behind him, setting his hands on the slim waist. This seemed to compensate him somewhat, and he looked suddenly greedy. Disguised, Akira looked away from him towards to smaller, dark-haired boy. He met Kaede's sharp blue eyes for a fleeting moment, but he couldn't read anything in his empty expression.

"Kaede.... Rukawa...." he muttered to himself, watching him.

The next moment Kaede had turned away and set the bike off across the grass with a loud roar of the engine. Akira watched them go, suddenly feeling foolish, standing alone on the basketball court. He knew that he needed to leave as well. He stuffed his basketball into his sports bag which had been dumped at the side of the court and left as quickly as he could.

~tbc

Notes:

It was only when writing this chapter that I realised my monumental lack of knowledge about firearms! I know nothing, _nothing_! I wanted Tetsuo's gun to click, but I didn't know what would make the clicking sound. Initially I called it "the safety catch" or "the safety lock" but I wasn't sure whether that was right, or even whether such a thing existed! Eventually I ended up spending a lot of time researching guns and I learnt a lot of valuable information for not only this, but also many following chapters. Not all of it was convenient for the story either! (A lot of stuff that I had initially planned turned out to be a) stupid or b) plain wrong). Hopefully things are fairly accurate now, but naturally there may still be errors because I am still a fool :D Hahaha.

Also you've probably realised by now that the story does not follow the original (as devised by Shakespeare, or, as it may be, whoever he copied it from lol) and also please note that quotations can and will be used out of context for my own selfish convenience. Thanks!

Please take a moment to leave a review, even if just to say "I was here" or "I read this" or "this freaking sucks, stop wasting my time".


	4. Chapter 4

(Note: Foul language and gun violence warning for this chapter… and probably all subsequent chapters as well, haha)

**A Romeo and Juliet Story**

**Chapter Four**

Sat in a cosy booth in a low-key diner, the two Sendoh brothers were eating dessert together. Their lunch was very much enjoyed since it wasn't often that they got to spend time alone together like this, even though the two of them got along surprisingly well. Despite the considerable differences in their temperaments and preferences they still enjoyed each others company.

The restaurant was fairly nicely furnished in the style of an old-school American burger joint. There were tables and booths, all decorated with a 1970s retro theme: red, black and chrome. There was even an old-style jukebox in the corner. Along the bar some high bar stools meant that single patrons could eat casually by themselves, or perhaps just come in briefly for a quick cup of coffee. To the right of the two boys' booth a large window overlooked a small parking lot and, beyond that, a busy little road and some industrial warehouses and offices. The view wasn't spectacular, but the food was good.

Not three days had gone by since Akira's small scrape with Tetsuo and Kaede. He'd told Hanamichi most of what had happened, including the mistakes he had made. He'd even taken some pleasure in being able to inform his brother that the mysterious "kitsune" was in fact called Kaede. He had, however, declined to mention the curiosity he'd felt towards that Rukawa boy, and had taken care not to elaborate too much on the boy's attractive face or intriguing manner. Hanamichi was as puzzled as he was as to why Kaede should have let him go so easily.

"Well. He's not like his brother in any case" Hanamichi had mentioned "Hisashi would have killed you first and asked you questions later."

His good luck at having been able to get away, somewhat chastened but otherwise unharmed, was not lost on Akira. He was in fact very thankful, and he knew where his gratitude was due.

**My life is in my foe's debt.**

The area they were in was the infamous Tsuzuki district of Yokohama, right on the boarder between the Sendoh and Rukawa territories. It was a district which saw much fighting between the two rival families since it was constantly under dispute. It had been Akira who had suggested that they come here, although he not entirely sure why. Something in his belly told him that he wanted to see Kaede again, perhaps thank him for what he had done. There really wasn't much chance of seeing him, but Akira wanted to be here anyway, if only to feel just a little bit closer. The gulf that separated them otherwise seemed impossibly large.

He shook his head distractedly at his thoughts and picked at his rapidly melting ice cream. It was lemon - his favourite. Hanamichi was happily tucking into his own strawberry flavoured bowl.

He couldn't clearly rationalise his desire to be near Kaede again. The best he could manage was to tell himself that he wanted to ease his sense of debt. He felt uncomfortably like he owed the Rukawa boy something, and wished for perhaps the opportunity to repay him for what had been done. But beneath that general justification there was something more primal at work within him. Curiosity about those fine blue eyes and that reserved and secretive manner kept gnawing irresistibly at his mind. It was the hidden world behind Kaede's intriguing facade which Akira wanted so very much to access.

Try as he might he could not get the image of Tetsuo's final actions out of his mind; how those large, thick hands had held that slim waist possessively and that hungry expression which had appeared on his face. It repelled him but at the same time encouraged his interest. He could see that Kaede was strikingly beautiful of course, probably influential and powerful too, not to mention fantastically wealthy. In fact there were dozens of reasons why Tetsuo would find Kaede desirous, but not one of them should affect Akira, so why did he still feel this way? He turned his eyes to the room in a confused daze, seeking perhaps some distraction from his thoughts.

On the far wall, clearly visible from where he was sitting, was a modernist artwork. It showed two large, indiscernible black shapes meeting in a violent collision. It wasn't clear what they represented but Akira's eyes fashioned them as motorbikes. The impact clearly sent them spinning out of control; and there was another, smaller dark shape near the base of the frame which could, with a stretch of the imagination, represent a rider thrown violently clear of the smash. For some reason his eyes kept returning to it, drawn in marvel, wishing to decipher the strange shapes as if there was some hidden message there. Some premonition. Something… important. He was again looking at it for the nth time when a sudden hand on the back on head pushed his face down to the table, narrowly missing his ice cream.

"Get _down_" Hanamichi hissed urgently. He too had ducked his head level with the table, and was watching something outside the window. Akira followed his gaze tentatively to see a long black stretch limousine pulling up on the far side of the road across from the diner. Through the window he saw a tall, slender figure dressed in a smart black suit step out of the rear seat of the car. Akira was too far away to notice the blue eyes, washed to a lighter hue than his brother's, but did see the cool smirk and calculating look. Hisashi held the car door open while a familiar fat man squeezed himself out. On the other side of the car, from the rear door which opened into the traffic, a third figure emerged. This one was smaller, paler, but was undeniably in possession of the same jet black hair, striking features and effortless grace as Hisashi. He moved to stand next to his brother, and Akira saw that Kaede was in fact a couple of inches shorter, but otherwise the physical similarities between the two brothers were plain to see.

Seeing the person he'd so very much wanted to meet, but simultaneously realising that being seen by him in turn would be extremely dangerous, Akira's chest tightened uncomfortably at the unwelcome surprise. He swallowed nervously, his heart rate speeding up as he watched the small group across the road. On the other side of the table, Hanamichi's face had also turned deathly pale. He too understood the seriousness of their situation. If they were seen, they were dead.

The fat man, Anzai, head of the house of Rukawa, straightened his suit and motioned for the two boys to follow him. Hisashi stepped eagerly into stride behind him as they headed directly to the main door of the warehouse while Kaede hesitated, turning about and giving a long, sweeping examination of the place; the road, the cars, the diner. As his eyes moved across the windows of the restaurant, Akira and Hanamichi had already abandoned their vigil and had sunk lower in their seats so that not even the tops of their heads were visible. Kaede watched the empty glass pane for a moment. He watched as a waitress approached the table, looked down and spoke. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"No, no, go away!" Hanamichi hissed at her as she came over to ask whether there was a problem for the two boys who seemed to have become stuck under the table, but the damage was already done.

Kaede hesitated for a moment, but then he called out to his brother and father, "There's something odd, I'm going to check it out." Hisashi rolled his eyes in irritation, but Anzai nodded in consent. Without further pause, Kaede set out to cross the road towards the diner.

"Shit!" Hanamichi exclaimed, popping up to snatch a look out of the window and seeing Kaede checking for traffic. "He's coming over."

Akira groaned. He'd never had much contact with the rival family, and now... three times in one week! He looked over at Hanamichi and saw that his brother already had his gun in his hand. Akira reached for his own gun in its holster under his shirt, brushing the warm metal with his hand, assuring himself that it was secure. He was reminded suddenly of Kaede's renowned gunmanship, and concern gripped him tighter. He'd been harbouring a hope of seeing the boy, and now it looked like he was going to get what he had wished for. He'd rather keep the encounter peaceful however; he had actually wanted to thank him after all. Akira watched Hanamichi's darkened, dangerous eyes, suddenly sure that his brother was not going to see it in quite the same way. If the two met, it would probably be impossible to stop Hanamichi from being aggressive; however if he could get Hanamichi out the way then maybe, just maybe, he could defuse this situation.

"Hana" he called the boy's attention over to him. "I'll meet him. You get out of here."

"_What?_"

"He won't hurt me. He didn't last time. I don't exactly know why yet but... I'm sure he won't hurt me now."

"So_ what_? There's two of us and one of him. This time we'll be the ones saying who gets hurt."

Akira thought quickly, his eyes darting around the room desperately for any kind of inspiration. He needed to convince his brother, the situation was balancing on a knife edge. Finally his eyes settled on the black limousine outside the window. "I will hold Kaede up here," he said in a moment of sudden insight, "you... you go across the road and follow Hisashi and Anzai Rukawa. You might learn something important. If they're operating in Tsuzuki now, father will want to know about it."

Hanamichi frowned. "Why can't _you_ go and tail them?"

"Because... because I can only deal with one guy. You have to go and handle two guys. There are two of them, so you have to do it. And… uhm…. you know a lot more about Hisashi than I do, and I wouldn't be able to manage him. But you… you can."

He was finally making sense for his younger brother. Hanamichi's eyes dawned with comprehension and he grinned. Akira nearly sighed in relief. Without further argument the red-headed boy nodded and got up, hurrying towards the door which led to the kitchen, ignoring the protests of the waiters. He threw a conspiratorial wink at Akira as he slipped out, intending to use the back door in order to avoid meeting Kaede on the way in.

Akira hated the part of him that sent his brother into danger, but on the other hand he trusted Hanamichi. He knew his brother's abilities were extremely high and he couldn't help but feel that Hanamichi was safer over there rather than under the eyes of Kaede – the supposed '_kitsune_'. While the blue-eyed boy hadn't seemed particularly aggressive on the two occasions Akira had seen him, he nevertheless had a distinct air of pride about him. Instinct told Akira that he would not stand for Hanamichi's particular brand of goading. Besides, it couldn't be denied that there probably _was_ important information to be gleaned from the situation, and it was their responsibility, as their father's sons, to acquire it. That reminded Akira that he also needed to perform his own side of the venture - he had to keep Kaede occupied until Hanamichi could return.

The door to the diner was opening. Akira fixed his face with a gentle smile as Kaede's eyes flashed directly to his table. The younger boy looked somewhat taken aback upon seeing the now-familiar rival, but his surprised reaction was not as pronounced as Akira's was upon seeing him. The Sendoh boy's jaw nearly dropped when he saw what the distance across the road had hidden from him.

Kaede's beautiful pale face was marred with a cruel bruise which entirely covered his right eye. The colour, which was deep and black around the eye socket, faded in increasingly lighter shades of blue as it spread down over the apple of his cheek. Finally, at the very edge of its territory it turned first brown then orange then yellow until finally it melded seamlessly with his light skin. It looked violent and swollen, and Kaede couldn't open his right eye fully. Something about it was... pitiful. Akira hadn't noticed it from the distance across the road, or had possibly assumed it was a shadow.

For a moment he wondered what on earth could have happened. How could he have sustained such an injury in the three days since they'd met? However, even as he stared in confusion at the cruel mark a memory came distantly to him. It was Tetsuo's words: "_Hisashi will kill you for this_." His eyes widened in realisation.

Kaede's eyes met his surprised face and narrowed. The boy moved immediately towards him in quick, large strides; all eyes in the restaurant automatically looking up to follow his lithe form as it stormed between the tables. Upon reaching Akira he didn't speak, he just leant over the seated boy intimidatingly and slammed a palm aggressively on the table. A sudden, violent smash. Everyone watching him jumped slightly at the loud noise. He glared directly into Akira's eyes in anger and said nothing: his slammed hand was threat and question enough. But Akira didn't flinch. In fact he barely even noticed. He was still staring at the bruise - the price Kaede had paid for him – mesmerized by it. It thrilled and horrified him. The Rukawas... this was what they did to their own. It was absolutely merciless. His eyes wandered without constraint over Kaede's damaged face. In the face of his concern, Kaede's threatening posture slowly softened and his creased eyebrows untied.

"Kaede..." Akira said gently, as though the aggressive action had never happened "... please sit down." He motioned with a hand to the seat Hanamichi had just vacated. After a long pause Kaede withdrew his hand from the table but still stared with annoyance at the familiar face. When Akira's eyes continued to appeal silently to him he finally moved and slid into the vacant seat with a dignified grace, his suspicious eyes never leaving Akira's. The eyes of the restaurant patrons one by one returned to their own plates now that the drama appeared to be over.

For a moment Akira felt surprised. He hadn't expected the boy to be prepared to interact with him, at least not so readily. It seemed curious, but he found that he was glad of it.

He was fascinated by the mark covering Kaede's cheek and eye. In a strange way it was a beautiful thing, but even more intriguing for Akira was what it represented; bravery perhaps, self-sacrifice, valour. Such rare qualities to find among those in this corrupt industry. He wondered whether Kaede had fought back, or whether he had accepted the blow passively. He tried to imagine doing such a thing to Hanamichi, or Hanamichi doing it to him, but the whole thing was inconceivable.

Finally he raised his eyes to meet Kaede's cold ones and found that he too was under scrutiny. His emotions must have been visible on his face because Kaede spoke first;

"Don't pity me."

Akira blinked. He didn't reply to the accusatory voice, but after a moment inclined his head in only the slightest of nods. Cautiously Kaede mirrored the small gesture, dipping his head and his eyes tentatively. It was only a small exchange of acquiesce, probably insignificant to anyone looking on, but Akira immediately felt like something important had been agreed between them. It was a condoning of their meeting, a simple acknowledgement of their right to be together like this; their right to talk to each other without hostility. Remembering that he had in fact been fantasising about this meeting for the past few days, and finding himself exceptionally grateful (and slightly disbelieving) that it had actually happened, Akira couldn't help but smile. It started out small – only a brightening of his eyes and the smallest upwards turn of his lips, but it quickly gathered momentum until finally he couldn't stop it from breaking over his face.

Kaede did not smile back, but he watched Akira with interest. He reserved his opinion, uncertain what to think for the moment, waiting simply to see what would develop. A great deal had been communicated within that small exchange of nods without a word needing to be spoken.

"We should play together again" Akira spoke smilingly.

He hadn't really thought about what he would say. There were other things he'd wanted to express, but the words just hadn't come to him. 'Thank you' for example. Perhaps even 'I'm sorry'. He couldn't explain it but he suddenly felt that those things were inappropriate; mundane and meaningless.

Kaede raised one curious eyebrow in response to his words and Akira was filled with the self-congratulatory sense of having said exactly the right thing. Of course it wasn't a practical idea; perhaps it would never be possible. How would they be able to meet each other safely when they were born enemies? But in spite of everything Kaede allowed himself to nod again. Such a small gesture, yet so significant. Akira felt disproportionately pleased the sight of such a minuscule indication of agreement. Pondering the tiny miracle that was occurring right in front of him, he was suddenly seized with a desire to really make it happen. Meet this boy and play basketball with him. Such a simple desire, but one which could perhaps help both of them escape the mad world in which they lived, if just for a little while.

Seized with sudden, irrational bravery, Akira unexpectedly reached forward and grasped the boy's pale hand that was resting on the table surface. Kaede visibly flinched, as if not used to such contact, but did not immediately pull back, which was encouraging. His hand was much smaller and finer than Akira's large, tanned ones which easily engulfed it.

Akira learned forward and whispered conspiratorially;

"Meet me on Hato Street, next Sunday, 10am."

Kaede widened his eyes in considerable surprise. He obviously hadn't expected such a sudden and potentially dangerous proposition.

"Bring your bike" Akira added.

**It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;**

**Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be**

**Ere one can say 'It lightens!'**

Kaede, for his part, was increasingly concerned by the strange boy sat opposite from him. Emotions could be seen dancing across his face clear as day. He couldn't imagine how anyone could exist in such a way – so unprotected from the world. Everyone Kaede had ever known had been a deceiver. The false pretensions of subservience from the people surrounding the Rukawa estate who only wished to earn his favour for their own benefit. Hisashi's overstated cruelty and continual bullying was just a desperate mask to hide a much gentler nature. Gifts – his motorcycle for example – were merely wise investments, a way to gain influence in the family and thus ensure returns. Even his own mother was continually angling, acting to drive off her rivals and trying to secure the position of her only child within the family ('entirely ineffectively' he remembered bitterly). Not a single one of those people really gave a damn about him. They all had their motives and he had become adept at reading them.

And yet here he was sat before a boy who he simply could not understand. Either Akira's mask was so good that it was impenetrable, or else he wasn't wearing one at all. Having dealt with hundreds of men, both in business and otherwise, and having found them all deploringly predictable, Kaede was more than a little concerned to discover that this peculiar person was the heir to his great enemy. The enigma that was Akira Sendoh might prove to be extremely dangerous as an opponent. He found it very hard to predict how Akira would act. Dealing with him was like trying to stand on ground that was continually shifting underfoot; it made him feel tired.

Judging that the time was right he tentatively extracted his hand from the other's grasp. The older boy seemed momentarily embarrassed when he realised that he had unconsciously been holding onto Kaede's hand for so long. He gave a sheepish smile which Kaede watched blankly.

"I need to go back now." A simple statement, to bring their brief interaction to a premature close. That cool voice was very quiet and yet laced with authority, clearly not used to being questioned or disobeyed. Akira immediately frowned in obvious disappointment, another expression which Kaede seemed to find interesting.

"But… you'll meet me?" the Sendoh boy queried.

"Why should I?" the usual cold, suspicious response was something which Akira was coming to expect.

"I don't know…" the Sendoh boy admitted "…I just want you to. I guess I would like to… thank you." That tired old excuse again. He didn't even believe it himself anymore, but he didn't know what else to say. He would have given worlds to understand why he wanted to meet with Kaede Rukawa.

Kaede gave him a look which clearly said 'you are an idiot'. Akira sighed. His eyes wondered over to the window, wondering what Hanamichi was doing, and whether he was ready to come back yet.

"Hato Road at 10am." Akira looked up suddenly at the unexpected sound of Kaede's smooth voice. "I will remember." Kaede kept his face completely neutral as always. The idea of spending time with the unusual Sendoh boy, perhaps learning more, working out how to deal with him, how to break his mask, would be beneficial. As if to confirm once more, Kaede gave a small nod. He watched in fascination the look of happiness which immediately dawned on Akira's face, followed quickly by determination and resolve.

Then, without further need of words, content with his decision the young Rukawa silently rose from his seat, signalling that their interaction was over.

As he crossed the road to rejoin his father and brother Kaede had to make a conscious effort not to look back towards the window where he knew Akira was watching. For some reason his hands itched – he wanted to wash them. He felt a little conspiratorial, a little guilty, and he found that odd. For a moment he questioned himself; he'd somehow agreed to a meeting with an enemy which might very well get him killed. He pondered the best way to proceed and frowned to himself. Something about Akira's easy, confident manner and apparently innocent actions was disturbing. The emotions that swam so clearly in his bright eyes and the gentle expressions that were so frequently readable on his lips were incredibly curious to Kaede. He found himself thinking about that smiling countenance. How would that boy look when he was excited, when he was angry or when he was sad? How would he look when he was sleeping?

Kaede blinked at his peculiar thoughts and shook his head. It was just research, he reminded himself quickly. It wasn't at all as if he really wanted to go. It was just that it would profit his family in the end if he could find out a little more about their future opponent.

He tried to keep his eyes ahead, alert in the hope of catching a glimpse of Hanamichi. Akira hadn't mentioned the presence of his brother but Kaede had been quick to note that there were two empty dessert bowls on the table. Something about the sticky pink traces of strawberry ice cream had suggested the presence of the younger Sendoh. Sure enough Kaede spotted him also crossing the road, although in the opposite direction about three hundred metres down. His shocking red hair was covered with a woollen hat.

Kaede had only seen Hanamichi once before. He'd been with Hisashi and Kogure doing some unimportant errand for his father. Only a few parting shots had been fired at that accidental encounter; it hadn't been a serious situation. Kaede had simply stood aside with Kogure and let Hisashi deal with the unwelcome visitor. Of course Hisashi had flown into a rage about his inaction, but Kogure's insistence that Kaede had been looking after him stayed the elder brother's fist and cooled his anger in a way that only Kogure could manage.

Now Hanamichi was keeping his head down and his eyes on the road, body language that Kaede immediately understood: Hanamichi had seen him too. Kaede did not want a confrontation with the younger Sendoh brother, so he turned his own eyes back to the warehouse and continued his approach pretending – like Hanamichi was – not to be aware of the other boy's proximity.

Hisashi and Anzai Rukawa were in discussion with a suited man in the main hold of the large, empty warehouse when Kaede finally entered. The building was old, but in good condition. It was bland and featureless as warehouses usually are: corrugated iron walls and roof, a cold concrete floor. There were steel bars across the ceiling and high windows letting in light to the spacious area. As Kaede came in, Hisashi immediately snapped his attention to him,

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Kaede said nothing but continued to approach the three men who turned away from him to resume their discussion. He stopped short, however, when a small scuff of white on the floor caught his eye. He looked down at it, considering.

"What about access?" Anzai continued to talk to the man.

"There are three bays at the rear. The warehouse is on its own plot so naturally it is accessible 24-hours a day." Anzai nodded his head, apparently satisfied.

"Everything seems in order then. Hisashi?"

"Sure, let's sign."

"Wait." Kaede suddenly spoke softly. He looked up from the smudge on the floor and addressed the agent directly. "What did you say was stored here before?"

The man gave him an understanding smile, almost as though he was being simple. Kaede ignored the look and waited for him to reply. "Most recently there was machinery. Related to cranes I believe. Before that it was furniture – wooden furniture."

"Ah." Kaede nodded slowly. "But the price? It is below market average, is it not?"

"They are asking three million yen for fifteen thousand square feet."

"That would make it…" Kaede appeared to think for a moment "…three, no, two hundred yen per square foot. But the average is three hundred and fifty - nearly double that. What is your explanation for this?"

The man began to frown in the face of Kaede's well-conceived questions and he adjusted his tie nervously. It was an unconscious action which didn't go unnoticed by the three Rukawas in the room.

"The location. We are… well… rough neighbour as I'm sure you know. And… and I understand that the owner wants a new tenant quickly. Doesn't want it to… be empty for…"

He faltered into silence as Kaede squatted and ran a finger along the floor, across the smudge, picking up some dirty white powder on his skin. He raised it to his nose and smelt it, then tasted it, grimacing. He stood up slowly, all eyes on him.

"Machinery? Cranes?" He gave a cold snort of amusement. "But this is cocaine. What is your explanation for _that_?"

The agent's face turned bloodless under the combined stare of the three men and he gave a nervous swallow, "I don't… maybe… some local kids perhaps… I…" he stammered weakly. Anzai raised a single, dangerous eyebrow.

"Here's what I think" Kaede cut smoothly across him. "The place is dirty. The police are aware of it. The last tenant left in a hurry and they need someone else with illegals to move in to cover their tracks." The agent was silent. "Am I right?" The man swallowed nervously again. "Did you know about this?" Kaede's voice was entirely level and serene. Internally he gave a tried sigh, knowing how this would end. It was all just another troublesome business negotiation for him.

"No… I…" Seeing the disbelieving look on Anzai's face the agent began to take hasty steps backwards, suddenly afraid. "I didn't know anything about it!"

"Ah – but you don't deny that it's true? That's interesting. Here's what else I think: you're lying." Kaede managed to give the man a weak, commiseratory smile. It was game over.

Hisashi drew his gun and levelled it at the flustered agent who turned frightened eyes on the firearm in silent horror, perhaps not quite able to believe the speed with which his luck had turned against him.

**He breathed defiance and swung and cut the winds.**

"Good night" said Hisashi quietly and, without a moment's hesitation, pulled the trigger. The unfortunate agent fell backwards with empty eyes, dead before he hit the floor. Kaede turned away in disinterest, having seen it so many times before.

Hanamichi had only just squeezed himself back into the booth when the sound of a single gunshot reached the two brothers' ears. They both sat upright immediately, their eyes flying towards the warehouse across the road from where the noise had come. Several other diners did the same.

"Hanamichi, what were they doing?" Akira asked hoarsely, fear for Kaede immediately erupting in his chest. Was it possible that Hisashi had found out that they had met? Had he… could he have…?

"Rukawa wants to rent the warehouse. They're talking to some estate agent about the contract."

Akira felt like something was squeezing his chest, forcing the air and life out of him as he sat stiffly upright in his seat, staring at the closed warehouse door across the road beyond which he did not know what lay. He'd already seen what Hisashi was capable of doing, was it too much to believe that he would actually fire on Kaede if he suspected him of something suspicious?

His fear didn't alleviate until the door opened a few minutes later and Kaede was the first to emerge, completely unharmed, his face impassive. Following close behind him was his father who looked angry as he talked aggressively into his cell phone; clearly something had gone wrong. The last to emerge was Hisashi, scowling, and still tucking his gun back into the belt of his trousers, not in the least concerned about who might see him. The estate agent did not emerge.

"Well now, that's interesting…" Hanamichi breathed quietly as they watched the men get back into the black limousine which was waiting for them. "I guess he was trying to pull a fast one. You really don't want to fuck with that family."

Akira stared and nodded mutely, suddenly wondering what he had really gotten himself into.

~tbc

Kikoo! Thank you very much for all your reviews! Critiques are especially appreciated since I am trying to do my best with this fic (I like it a lot and want to do it justice!)

It has been condensed (and hopefully improved!) from the earlier draft (which was a good few hundred words longer) – many thanks to Orangesorlemons for that advice 3

As always – please take a moment to leave a review, even if just to say "A bacon double cheeseburger please", "cats are cool" or "will this fic be ruhana? - pls pls pls plsplspls! because i LOVE ruhana the best" (/puke) …etc.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Romeo and Juliet Story – Chapter Five**

Akira arrived at Hato Street the following weekend at 9:30am, half an hour before his scheduled meeting time with Kaede. He'd taken two buses and the subway to get there. He had his own car of course, but since it was particularly distinctive and particularly valuable it was far too noticeable to bring today on a day of secrecy. Luckily he didn't have any aversion to taking public transport; in fact he thought it useful. It meant he could allow his mind to wander rather than having to concentrate on navigation and steering. He'd spent this morning's journey contemplating his new favourite daydream in spite of himself: Kaede Rukawa. What would he say? How would he act? Would he even come at all?

Akira carried his crash helmet under his arm along with his sports bag. He didn't have his own motorbike but he frequently rode with Hanamichi, often enough that he had purchased a helmet for himself some time ago. Since it was his alone no one was likely to realise that it was missing from his room. No one would have any reason to ask him compromising questions about his day.

The weather channel had promised that it would be hot, and it seemed that that would indeed be the case with the sun already bright in a cloudless morning sky. Even in his breezy basketball clothes; a Nike t-shirt and baggy black shorts which reached his knees, he could feel the heat rising, and a fine sheen of sweat was already brushed over his brow.

Thankfully he didn't have to wait as long as he feared for the sound of Kaede's bike approaching. The engine gave a distinctive low, powerful rumble which he recognised above the noise of the other traffic before the bike even came into view. It was only fifteen minutes after he had arrived himself, meaning that Kaede was also early. Akira hoped that it was a good sign that they were both so keen, perhaps a promise for a good day ahead.

He watched in interest as the unique green bike swerved into view, rounding the corner of the road sharply, and he suddenly felt the unfamiliar bite of nervousness in the pit of his stomach. The object of his curiosity and his recent daydreams was approaching. He wasn't usually the type to feel self-conscious or anxious, but something about Kaede gave him a feeling of a gentle but insistent pressure. As if he wanted, _needed_, to appear significant; as if it was important for him to somehow win Kaede's respect. Was it really possible that Akira's innocent desire for the two of them to meet in a neutral, safe situation would be realised today?

**Passion lends them power, time, and means to meet.**

Hato Road was on the south side of the city of Yokohama in the Totsuka district. Supposedly it was Sendoh territory but in fact it was at such a distance from the main hubs that the area was little frequented by anyone from the families. Still, Akira knew that it was not safe, even here, for the two of them to risk being seen together. He had a longer trip planned, to take them out of the city completely.

Kaede drew up to the kerb beside where Akira stood and dropped a foot to the pavement but did not cut the engine. He flipped open the visor of his helmet to revel his piercing blue eyes which fixed on Akira's welcoming smile like a beacon. It seemed that Kaede had also realised that the day would be a hot one because he had abandoned his riding leathers and simply wore loose sports clothing like Akira.

Kaede was also aware of a corresponding emotion similar to that which was afflicting Akira. A reluctant recognition that Akira was different from those many others that he had dealt with before. A realisation that this odd Sendoh boy was probably worthy of his time. However, these were things that stirred only very dully the dark depths of Kaede's consciousness. Unlike Akira he found that he could dismiss such fleeting thoughts and observations easily, simply not allowing them to affect him. His soul had been barricaded in so securely for so long - necessary for the preservation of his very sanity - that he was distanced from his own thoughts and feelings as though he was looking at them through fogged glass.

Akira raised a hand and smiled in greeting "good morning!" to the boy perched on the bike - it was difficult to hear himself speak over the noise of the engine. He moved closer to Kaede in order to be heard, suddenly self-conscious of every movement he was making and the nearing proximity of their two bodies: "We're going to Odawara, okay?"

Odawara was a city in Kanagawa further south along the coastline, approximately an hour's journey from Yokohama City. It was a small place known mostly for its beautiful feudal castle and was a popular spot for tourists. It was small enough and far away enough to be of little interest to the drug barons of Yokohama, so the area would be safe enough for Akira and Kaede's secret liaison.

Kaede seemed to consider this for a moment before he nodded shortly, flipped his visor shut again and turned back to the road.

Aware that his companion hadn't yet said a word Akira pulled his own helmet down over his head and climbed onto the bike behind the boy. Perhaps he should have felt disheartened by Kaede's short and unwelcoming manner but somehow he didn't. It only served to make Kaede all the more interesting to him. He wondered what it was like to be able to go about life in such a simple, straightforward manner. To so easily dismiss those you deem unworthy of your time, and to interact so directly and plainly with those who were.

He gripped the seat with his knees, feeling both the warmth of Kaede and the vibrations of the engine between his thighs and finding it pleasurable. He placed his hands on Kaede's slim waist and wondered whether his expression was similar to the one he had seen Tetsuo make. Luckily his face was hidden by his helmet.

He didn't have time to adjust his position because Kaede had already opened the throttle and the bike was surging forward eagerly. Akira's gentle touch on his waist tightened into a firm grip as their rapid acceleration suddenly jolted him. They would be following the road west until they could join the main highway which would take them all the way down the coast to Odawara.

Kaede, Akira came to realise very quickly, was a skilled but very fast driver. Several times the older boy's heart leapt into his throat as the bike wove quickly through traffic and round corners, coming so close to contact with other vehicles or obstacles that Akira would tilt involuntarily to the side and close his eyes in nervousness. Cars would come at them from all directions but Kaede would handle the bike easily, reacting quickly, winding it from one side of the road to the other and back again without the need to slow down; continually avoiding collisions by a ominously narrow margin.

As a direct result of his borderline-erratic driving it took very little time for them to get away from the residential streets of the area and out onto the highway. They joined it at a considerable speed but once they had lined up on the straight Kaede could really demonstrate the bike's enhanced performance. The machine howled in eagerness and leapt forward, covering the ground greedily as though it were starving beast seeking to devour the road. Akira felt as if his organs were being pushed back into his spine, and he clung to Kaede fiercely. For the time they were accelerating rapidly his whole world was reduced to nothing but noise, power and speed; a whirlwind of insanity. The bellowing around his ears was deafening; a combination of the powerful engine and the howling wind. Even his thoughts had to shout to be heard above it all. Kaede's bike did not seem to be affected by the extra weight Akira was adding; it ran aggressively, responding willingly to Kaede's smallest adjustment even with the extra person onboard.

Once their speed levelled out and they were no longer accelerating Akira found that he could relax and enjoy the sensation of their wild abandon. Green fields and farms were passing intermittently on the right while on the left he could catch short glimpses of the blue of the sea beyond the trees. The wind's resistance on his body was exhilarating, even though Kaede was sheltering him from the majority of the blast. And all the while he was pressed against Kaede's gently curved back, their thighs and bodies touching. It was a sweet madness. To Akira it felt as though they were running away. The speed had a sense of urgency, a kind of desperation about their act. It was as if they were escaping. Whether or not Kaede felt the same way was impossible to tell. He did not turn or make any kind of indication, keeping his face forwards towards the road in concentration. Akira genuinely hoped that Kaede was enjoying the ride and the sense of freedom just as much as he was.

He lost himself for a while in the speed and sheer madness of what they were doing until he become aware of their deceleration. He saw the city of Odawara looming over to their left. The journey had taken them only about forty-five minutes. Kaede swung the bike efficiently onto the ramp that led off the main highway. Once off it they followed a more minor road that skirted the eastern side of the city for some time before Kaede took them down a residential street. Since the younger boy seemed to know where he was going Akira sat back and allowed him to navigate.

After a few more twists and turns they arrived at a park situated next to the Sagami River. It was a grassy area that covered the river's immediate flood plain. There was a tow path stretching in either direction along the river bank with only a couple of dog-walkers to be seen in the distance. Parallel to the river, on the other side of the grassy park were the housing estates, set well back from the river's edge for fear of high waters. It was in this park that an empty and inviting basketball court awaited them, peppered around its edge with a few young trees.

As before Kaede rode the bike straight across the grass, not bothering to dismount and walk, not in the least concerned about the damage he was doing to the turf, and pulled up at the very edge of the concrete. They had arrived.

Akira hopped excitedly off the back and yanked off his helmet, still feeling the last of the adrenaline from the ride in his veins. Kaede also removed his helmet, still in his seat on the bike. His curious eyes met Akira's bright ones. The older boy couldn't help it when laughter bubbled up inside him and he had to let it out in a great peal of unabashed joy. They were miles away from their families, their enemies, their responsibilities. They were just two boys with an entire lazy day ahead of them. There was no Hisashi, no Hanamichi, no Tetsuo to disturb them. They could play as long as they liked, and perhaps afterwards they might… talk. Such a feeling of joyous lightness was the cause of Akira's open laughter. Feeling much the same sensations, and watching Akira's happiness, Kaede could even feel a twitch in his own lips – the beginnings of a smile. To cover his embarrassment he turned away in order to dismount from the bike.

Still chuckling to himself, Akira unzipped his sports bag and pulled out the bright orange ball. Leaving their helmets hooked on the bike's handlebars the two boy set out to make use of the empty court, commencing their own small-scale war. Their attitudes were very different from the last time they had played.

What Akira had instinctively known before was true: Kaede was a proud individual. What he hadn't taken into account was his own streak of pride. The last time they had played together they had been anonymous. This time they were real rivals. They were the two great houses: Sendoh and Rukawa. Neither boy underestimated the other but both were unshakeably determined to triumph. They pushed each other and their own limits further and further with every dodge and every shot. Every point was so vehemently won or lost that the stakes couldn't have seemed higher had they been playing with guns and bullets instead. It was in the manifestation of their shared rivalry that they both came alive.

Akira gasped air into his lungs as Kaede jostled him, pushing him backwards, attempting to get closer to the basket. The younger boy quickly feinted to the left but Akira didn't follow him, instead throwing his hand to the right which gave him a lucky strike at the ball as Kaede turned that way. The younger boy hissed in annoyance and quickly chased to recover his lost possession, losing himself precious ground. Akira didn't give him space to move, immediately appearing at his side again, pressuring him. Kaede made as if to dash around Akira to the left and Akira took a step in that direction before realising that he'd been taken in. Kaede rose up and took a shot, well outside the key, close to the three-point line. Akira watched the ball swish cleanly through the net. Two points. A lucky shot. He raised an eyebrow at Kaede, who wiped the sweat off his forehead with his wristband tiredly.

"You're lucky it went in," he commented.

Kaede only shrugged, "Hisashi's favourite shot."

It was a gamble. Most defenders didn't expect anyone to risk a shot from such a position for only two points. The reward was nominal and the chance of losing possession was increased due to the reduced accuracy that the distance generated. Most players would consider, in such a situation, that a pass or a drive towards the basket, or even a step backwards to put the shot into the three-point category would give them a better situation. But sometimes just taking a gamble - especially one that others didn't believe you would take – gave you an inherent advantage; that of surprise.

Akira grinned and went to recover the ball since it was now his turn to attack. He, too, had some tricks to show. Quickly collecting himself in order to begin his assault he put his back to the defending Kaede and raised his right arm high to protect the ball. He concentrated on the net which was a good distance away. He had to hit it just right…

He baited Kaede into taking a lunge for the ball before spinning away and throwing it towards the basket in a quick over arm loop. It clanged loudly against the nearside of the rim and bounced out. Kaede didn't react, surprised by the strange move, and could only stare in wonder as Akira ran and jumped high to meet it in mid-air, slamming it forcefully into the basket.

The young Sendoh dropped heavily to the floor and doubled up, trying to catch his breath. Beads of sweat dripped sparkling to the floor.

"Self-alley-oop tensai-style" he named it, still gasping in exhaustion but grinning up at Kaede who hadn't moved. He picked up the ball again and stared blankly at it, his tiredness washing over him like waves. "Let's stop for a break."

Kaede nodded dimly and without a word headed towards an elm tree at the edge of the court under which they had left their sports bags. Akira quickly joined him. Looking at his watch he realised that they had been playing at full tilt for close to two hours. It was definitely time to eat something.

They took shelter from the blazing sun under the tree and Akira pulled some wrapped sandwiches, a bag of fruit and some cans of juice from his bag and passed some to Kaede. The younger boy looked doubtful as he took them. Akira gave him a reassuring smile.

"I didn't tell you where we were going – so it's only fair that I provide lunch, okay?"

Kaede hesitated for a moment more before giving a characteristic tiny nod and starting to unwrap the sandwiches with his long, artistic fingers. With another smile Akira turned his attention to his own neatly wrapped lunch. He picked up a green apple from the collection of fruit, preferring the sourness of them over the sweet reds, and tucked it into his pocket for later.

"This is nice, right?" he asked, bringing his first sandwich up to his mouth. He took a bite – ham and cheese.

Kaede gave a soft "hmm" as he took a bite of his own – tuna.

Akira chewed contentedly for a while before swallowing. He felt inexplicably happy. It was an unfamiliar emotion and it was gathering up inside him, in his head and in his chest, insistent that he acknowledge it somehow. He felt almost dizzy with the weightlessness he felt. He couldn't help but to speak out to the strange boy who was the cause of it, as if to speak out, to acknowledge his emotions, would somehow ease him. "Kaede…?" The younger boy turned his head slightly to look at him. "Let's be friends."

Kaede's eyes flashed with sudden confusion although he disguised it almost immediately. Akira at once regretted speaking so casually about a topic so potentially serious. He hadn't really thought about it, the question had just jumped out of him. The enjoyment he was feeling, the contentment, had lulled him into a fantasy world. One where the two of them were not enemies. He didn't want this to be the only time that they ever met like this. He wanted it to be the beginning of something bigger, and not just the end of their brief acquaintance.

There was a long silence. Kaede didn't move, just watching Akira's profile blankly. Akira began to realise that he wasn't going to reply, and dropped his eyes to the bitten sandwich that was limp in his hand, feeling suddenly foolish. When Kaede finally spoke his voice was very soft, almost just a breath of air;

"I don't know, Akira." It was laced with uncertainty, and perhaps regret. Akira turned his head to examine him more closely. The bruise that had covered Kaede's cheek last week was all but gone. Only a faint shadow lingered around his right eye. His eyes were as entrancingly beautiful as always –dramatic blue, deep and full of secrets, framed by long elegant lashes, almost like a girl's. They were eternally alight with that remarkable vividness which gave him his nickname – kitsune. His skin was very pale, nearly white, against which his black lashes stood out in even greater contrast. There was something almost gothic about those dark-rimmed eyes on that pale flesh. The boy looked like a doll; delicate, breakable.

"Neither of us are really our father's sons" he found himself saying to those blue eyes, fully believing his words. The boy before him was not at all like the others in their shared industry; not like Hisashi, violent and aggressive, and not like both their fathers, astute businessmen motivated by money and by the rivalry that ran deep in their blood. The fact that they were here together, as impromptu companions, was proof enough of that. Kaede quickly looked away.

"I think you may have misjudged me there, Akira Sendoh."

Akira smiled. "I don't think so." He finished off his current sandwich and began on the next one while Kaede slowly sipped his drink.

"Kaede..?" He began again. The Rukawa boy didn't react, he just selected another sandwich. "Why did you help me?" Akira pressed, longing to draw the boy into a conversation which didn't solely consist of one-liners. "I mean, with Tetsuo…"

The fox-eyed boy paused with the piece of bread halfway to his mouth. After a moment he put it back down. He knew exactly what Akira was attempting to do. He was trying to get Kaede to show a partiality to their acquaintance. To prove that his last comment – 'not our father's sons' – was justified. To suggest that Kaede's action of letting him go meant that he could at least be partially blamed for initiating this whole… whatever it was.

Friendship.

Rivalry.

Mess.

But Kaede found that he, much like his brother, could not afford to admit to such weaknesses. Not even to himself. The young Rukawa's eyebrows creased slightly as he focussed on his hands in his lap. He risked glancing up into the eyes of his companion for a moment. They were utterly unguarded; so readable, so open, so naive. He found that he had to look away in order to speak, although he didn't understand why.

**I care not.**

"Because it is in my family's interest to keep Hanamichi from inheriting. He would present a stronger opposition than you."

Cold, calculating self-interest. No morality, no virtue, just selfishness. No one in the world gave a damn about Kaede Rukawa, he reminded himself. Of course the same was true of this Sendoh boy, whether or not he realised it. They were alive only because it was more convenient that way. Both of them. Just chess pieces for their families to use and discard at will. If Akira was foolish enough to believe that Kaede thought of him as anything more than a commodity then – well – he was too naive.

There was a tense silence. Kaede found it easy to imagine the ache that was probably stained across Akira's face – it was like hurting a child. The ridiculous optimism Akira had, his lack of barriers, the way he opened himself up so readily to hurt and rejection. Everything about him was perpetually determined to cause him pain. The real world was cold and cruel, it had no place for children - Kaede had learnt that long ago. The young Rukawa hesitated to turn towards the older boy, not wanting to see the damage done. After a while he felt a hand on his shoulder and so he reluctantly looked back at him.

Akira was… smiling. His eyes were cheerful. Kaede stared at that anomaly in surprise.

"Kaede," he said simply, "I don't believe you."

The young Rukawa blinked and then frowned. His petal-pink lips sloped downwards in dissatisfaction. Did this boy's optimism know no limits? He nearly sighed in frustration.

However, even as he felt that kindling annoyance, something in Akira's honest gaze caused him to recall for a fleeting moment an image from his past. He was reminded of similarly raw, expressive eyes, although those ones had been brown, not blue. Something jolted in him at the recollection of the memory which was in fact never very far away from his consciousness. He'd acted out of kindness that day so long ago, so could he have unwittingly done it again for Akira even while convincing himself otherwise? The memory signalled a moment when his world had been changed irrevocably. The point when he'd become aware of the difference between innocence and guilt, between right and wrong… something that had tormented him ever since.

_The man lay slowly stiffening in the alley at his feet, blood and gore seeping from the hole in the back of his head which marked the path of the bullet. The blood ran freely, mixing with the puddles of yesterday's rain on the ground. Beside the corpse, partly under it, was a young boy about Kaede's age. He was naked and crying, his brown eyes utterly sightless. He didn't see Kaede with Hisashi just behind him, or the dead man draped over him. He saw nothing but his own suffering. Looking into his eyes had been like looking straight down into his soul. Kaede had touched his bare arm and felt the warmth there. Intrigued he'd reached out further and touched his cheek and the salt tears that fell seemingly without end. He'd touched him and known – this is innocence. Looking down again at the dead man he had also known – this is guilt. And the final realisation – this is right. This is… _right.

Echoes of this memory ran through him now as he faced Akira's smile and was forced to question himself. Akira had planted doubt in him with one simple phrase. He'd forced him, in a way so gentle it was almost brutal, to acknowledge the falseness of his self-inflicted illusion. And worse: he knew his sudden confusion was visible on his face, and he couldn't recover his composure. His frown, his mistake, his defeat, everything was revealed to Akira. He felt exposed, naked, in a way he hadn't felt for years. He didn't like the sensation one bit.

It was the first time Akira had seen such a clear expression on the usually cool and unreadable features. There was irritation there, confusion, panic. Akira felt his heart beat speed up knowing that for the first time he'd caused Kaede's usually faultless mask to truly slip. Unfortunately it was a negative emotion rather than a positive one. Akira would have been thrilled to see perhaps a smile, laughter even, but despite that small mishap he knew what he was seeing. A glimpse of Kaede - the real Kaede – the emotions that were hiding under his façade, proof that there _were_ emotions hiding there, just out of reach: even if it was a frowning Kaede it was still incomparably precious.

The young boy seemed to realise the error in his features because he leaned back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes, his face quickly settling back into its usual blank expression. The flood of emotion Akira had seen there vanished, as though it had been nothing more than a mirage. What strength of will allowed the boy to erase the fear on his face like that? What self-control was involved in keeping his emotions concealed so infallibly? It was extraordinary.

Kaede silently reprimanded himself. He had thought he'd had the upper hand, thinking of Akira as an innocent child, dismissing him as foolish and simple, but in the end the tables had been turned on him so easily. Effortlessly. Now it was he, and not Akira, who was the child. He mentally rebuked himself, unable to believe that he had displayed his childish emotions and foolish pride. He'd underestimated Akira, not for the first time, and he needed to recover his composure quickly before he could continue to interact with him. He kept his eyes shut tight to the world, blocking that open and smiling face out. And yet for some reason it kept appearing unwelcome behind his closed eyelids. Akira's smile: irritating, mocking. He seemed to find it all so easy, so simple. The ease about him, the straightforward way he conversed suited him so well. It was all so natural. If Kaede's skill was in strategy: playing complex games and making careful traps by which to snare and defeat opponents, Akira was quite the opposite. Just his presence was disarming. He didn't need to lay traps to catch people out; they revealed themselves of their own accord just as Kaede had accidentally done a moment ago.

It seemed that Akira would turn out to be dangerous, truly dangerous, just as he had suspected. Kaede shivered despite the heat of the day.

They sat in silence for a long while, Akira finishing the last of his lunch, oblivious to the internal conflict he'd caused, and Kaede apparently dozing against the tree. A passer-by would have just seen two boys simply enjoying each others companionship. Friendship. Perhaps that's exactly what it was.

Finally, after some minutes, Kaede opened his eyes again. They settled immediately on Akira beside him who was looking up at the sunny sky contentedly, following a cloud with his eyes as it floated gently through the blue. He was close enough to reach out and touch, and yet he was completely unguarded. He paid no attention to the enemy who sat only a hand's reach away. He was completely unconscious of any danger; confident and relaxed.

"Akira?" The younger boy broke their silence uncharacteristically, causing Akira to look quickly towards him in surprise. Kaede felt that he needed to do something to push the conversation into his favour so he'd settled on the subject he was most confident with. The subject that was his defining ability: the thing his father valued the most, above any skill he might have had in business. It was his true talent, the skill that had shaped his entire life… albeit for the worse.

"Do you shoot?"

"Oh…" Akira looked thoughtful at the question, no longer interested in the cloud but giving his full attention to Kaede instead. "I know how to. I don't do it much."

Kaede nodded as though interested and pondered how to keep the conversation going. It had never been his forte, chatting, but he knew that he wanted to… defeat this man somehow. Do something to restore his self-confidence, to enable him to reclaim his usual untouchable attitude. When the situation called for it he could turn his talents to anything. Even this: small talk.

"Much practise?"

Akira was looking at him quizzically now. Perhaps he was acting too much removed from his usual self. Asking questions for which, truthfully, he had no interest in the answers. And yet something was driving him oddly onwards. It was as if he _wanted_ to talk. He wondered at that.

"A bit." Akira gazed at Kaede with interest, watching the boy attempt to initiate conversation. He wondered what made Kaede feel that he had to. "You're said to be quite a gunman."

Kaede gave a small shrug as the only response to that.

"Kitsune – isn't it?"

Kaede couldn't help giving a shudder at the sound of his alias, as he did almost every time he heard it. He'd traded under that pseudonym for over eight years now, but it still brought about that inconvenient unconscious reaction in him. Thankfully he knew how to disguise it, so Akira didn't notice.

"Yeah…" Kaede shrugged a little awkwardly. The gesture didn't suit him at all. "I don't know who came up with that."

"You like it though." Akira grinned.

Kaede stared at him for a moment, trying to imagine what distorted world Akira must be living in to believe in something so shockingly incorrect as that statement.

"Why do you say that?" He finally managed to ask.

"Your gun - it's engraved with them, right?"

Kaede frowned softly, realising that Akira's mistaken assumption may have been semi-reasonable after all. "It was a gift; I didn't choose it" he said defensively. A little too defensively for his own sanction. He mentally shook himself again, remembering that he needed to be more careful around Akira lest he trip up again.

"May I see?"

The Rukawa boy looked suspiciously up at him through the silken fringe that hung over his eyes. The older boy's face was still marred with that irritating smile of reassurance. Kaede felt like he was being pitied and patronised by that incessant expression.

Doing his best to ignore that look, Kaede instead searched Akira's blue eyes which, he knew, were that much harder to disguise. There was nothing but open curiosity, not a single glimmer of malicious intent, and so Kaede slowly slipped his hand under his shirt and felt the familiar metal there. It was warm to touch after being kept pressed so close against his body. He slipped it out of its holster and brought it out into the sunshine. The foxes engraved down the barrel of the gun winked in the light as though laughing at them both.

The gun was in fact one of an identical pair, although he usually only bothered to carry one with him unless the situation called for his full potential. They had been gifted to him by the Mitsui family, the family of Hisashi's mother, once the reputation of _kitsune_ had become established.

"Ah…" Akira picked it up with curiosity from Kaede's open and unresisting palm. It was heavy and unfamiliar to grip. "Wesson 9mm semi… standard?"

"Modified. Bull barrel and the chamber." Kaede corrected him immediately.

Akira nodded and brought it closer to his eye to examine the engravings. There were six foxes on each side, all unique. They were pictured in various attitudes of running, jumping and turning. The detail was minute, right down to their whiskers. Yet there was something a little disturbing about seeing them pictured there. They looked like drawings for children and yet they ornamented such a lethal weapon. Akira continued to inspect them for a while.

"So…" he said finally, passing the gun back to its owner "…just how good _are_ you?"

Kaede looked up at him and hesitated over the answer, not too sure how to reply. He'd had been told since he was six years old that he was "exceptionally talented", but that talent had brought him nothing but nightmares.

He'd been happy at first that finally there was something he could do, something that he excelled at over Hisashi. His father had seemed pleased about it. The young Kaede had thought that perhaps he might finally know his father's favour and that was why, when the reality of it became apparent, he hadn't shrunk back from it. It was his talent, and he clung to it even as it bucked and threatened to shake him off. Even as it rolled and crushed his innocence. Because guns were made for killing. Because being able to hit a target in a competition and win a trophy was just a child's game and Kaede didn't live in a child's world. His reality was destined to be much more brutal despite his young years. He was, after all, just a useful tool and his talent, his curse, would not be overlooked.

"Uhm…" Kaede replied, his mind suddenly flooded by the memory of all the blood that his little skill had shed "…not bad."

Accurately detecting the high level of modesty Akira laughed, causing Kaede to look at him in curious bewilderment. His face was light-hearted, the sight of which gave Kaede a stab of pain to know that it was impossible for Akira to see the misery that that gun had caused. He wondered, for a moment, what it would be like for Akira to see through his eyes. To know what he had experienced. To see what he had seen. Would he be able to laugh so easily then?

"Let's have a test!" Akira suddenly climbed quickly to his feet seemingly entirely oblivious to Kaede's sombre mood, and snatched up one of the uneaten sandwiches from the floor. He grinned mischievously. Kaede watched in silent curiosity as he jogged away across the basketball court to the far side where a young tree stood apart from the others, creating a small isolated patch of shade. Akira reached up and set the sandwich on one of the lower branches of the tree, then turned and waved back to Kaede across the court, calling out;

"Okay! Shoot this!"

Kaede cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. It was difficult to dwell on morbid thoughts in the company of someone so cheerful. Even something as deadly as a gun could be turned into an innocent game by the smiling eyes of Sendoh Akira. A part of Kaede told him that he should refuse. It was silly, pointless, and he didn't have anything to prove. Why should he show his skill to this man? The whole idea of shooting was weighed to such heavy milestones in his heart that he hadn't thought it would ever be possible for him to treat it lightly. And yet Akira made him feel like it was almost… innocent. That it was a simple game, a little like those quaint competitions he had entered and the little trophies he had won which still sat in his room. He'd not felt innocent in many, many years. Without really knowing why he stood up slowly, the gun grasped in his right hand. He tossed his hair to the side in a gesture of arrogance and raised the gun to eye level, his right arm fully extended straight before him with his left dropped casually at his side.

"Whoa!" Akira threw up his hands as the gun pointed in his direction "hold on!" he moved sideways out of danger.

Kaede couldn't help the amused snort of air that escaped his nostrils. "I thought you were giving me a challenge Sendoh Akira?" he said and fired immediately. The sandwich exploded. Blobs of tuna splattered down the tree trunk. Akira threw a hand over his mouth, and then doubled over with laughter at the bizarre sight.

Kaede gave a flicker of an uncertain smile. He couldn't tell whether Akira was mocking him or not, but his laughter was so real and so infectious he couldn't help but feel its influence. Perhaps it had been okay for him to play around a little bit.

"Hey…" Akira straightened and wiped away a tear, still chuckling and holding his side "…that was great. Let me find something else…" He thrust his hands deep into his pockets and pulled out the shiny green apple that he had placed there earlier. "What about this?" He began to laugh again, already imagining the pulverised fruit.

Kaede felt the sputter of uncertainty return. He'd already played along once; it wasn't necessary for him to do it again. After all, he wasn't there just to entertain Akira by shooting at things… it was childish. He was about to put his gun away when Akira appeared to think of something and gave him a knowing smile.

"I know…" he called, approaching the tree again, apple in hand "…what about that William Tell shot?"

Kaede paused with the gun halfway to its holster, casting his mind about, trying to remember where he'd heard that oddly familiar name before. Instantly he remembered the classical music piece which had taken the name, but then he recalled that that musical piece been in fact been inspired by a folk legend. A folk-hero named William Tell who had been a great crossbow marksman. Kaede could recall the story now, one of his tutors had told him a little about it. The man had been arrested for defying the mayor and as punishment he had been made to…

Even as he thought about the story his eyes followed Akira's actions simultaneously, suddenly aware of what he was going to do, his eyes widening in surprise and disbelief. The Sendoh boy leaned back against the tree, standing upright. He couldn't mean that, surely? He couldn't intend to try… that…?

**But trust me and I'll prove more true**

**Than those that have more cunning to the strange.**

Akira reached up and placed the apple carefully on the top of his head, balancing it against the tree.

"Here…" he called, his voice a little less brazen than before. His smile was still wide but his tone and his eyes revealed an unprecedented seriousness. "…shoot it now."

Of course, in the story of William Tell the arrested man had been made to risk shooting an apple off the head of his son as punishment.

Kaede stared at him with wide eyes. Words tumbled out of his mouth in surprise – "What? Are you mad!?"

It was one thing to converse with your enemy. To meet him, to call a temporary truce, even to enjoy your time together as these two boys had been doing this day. It was quite another thing to put your life into his hands unnecessarily. Kaede could not help but believe that it must be some kind of craziness. As for the shot it was simple enough for him to do safely, but if he wanted to (and who was to say that he didn't?) he could just blow that naïve boy's brains out like he'd done to the unfortunate sandwich. Didn't Akira know that? Couldn't he see the complete folly of what he was proposing? Wasn't Akira aware that Kaede was his enemy? The boy had to be insane. This was no longer a child's game, the innocent thing that Akira had first proposed. It had turned into something quite different. Something much more serious. More dangerous.

At the other side of the court Akira closed his eyes and took a long steadying breath. He hadn't planned this; it had just come to him in a flash of inspiration. He had proposed a test and this was it. A test for both of them. It was not, as he had initially intended, a test of Kaede's skill with a gun. It was now a test of trust.

It would be inaccurate to say that Akira was not afraid. His heart was truly jumping in his chest, his palms quickly becoming hot and sweaty. He knew that Kaede would be able to hit the apple, he was sure of it; the boy's skill was well-renowned. The question, of course, was whether he would actually aim for the apple at all or whether he would just try to kill Akira instead. Akira Sendoh. His great enemy.

And yet Akira felt strangely confident. Perhaps it seemed like a big risk but Kaede had had the chance to kill him before and hadn't done so. There was more depth to the frosty boy than he liked to reveal. Much more. The picture of a distant, unfriendly, dangerous young man was not the whole one. Akira was so sure of it.

With these things foremost in his mind Akira spoke clearly, keeping the tremble in his voice entirely under control, the words that, for better or for worse, would stay with the two of them for a long time to come;

"I trust you, Kaede Rukawa."

And that was that. This was the test. Not just for Akira to test his trust in Kaede, but a way for him to prove that trust to Kaede himself. When he opened his eyes they were certain and resolute.

Kaede quickly realised the nature of the game. Their entire involvement from this point onwards must be first founded on this. Until it was done neither of them could be free of suspicion of the other. Perhaps even this would not be enough, but there was no greater gamble they could offer than their own lives. It was a risk that had to be taken. Akira would put his life into Kaede's hands and Kaede could chose to either honour his trust or take that life.

He could see that Akira was deadly serious about the whole thing, and so Kaede didn't intend to drag it out. It would be quick and painless. The younger boy moved swiftly, without ceremony, entirely efficient and direct. The gun was raised in two hands, sighted for the briefest of moments, and then fired before Akira really had a chance to realise what was happening. The bang reached him just before the bullet did. It slammed into the tree trunk, apple pieces flying everywhere. Akira blinked in surprise, and Kaede had already lowered the gun. It was done. So simple. So efficient. Anti-climactic, one might say.

Realising that it was over, Akira allowed the adrenaline, that primeval fight or flight instinct, to finally wash over him and he sank to the ground suddenly dizzy. The fear he hadn't even allowed himself to acknowledge up until this point was suddenly lifted and he felt unexpectedly light-headed. He looked over and saw Kaede approaching him across the court at a jog. He gave a sigh of exhaustion and lent his head back against the hard wood of the tree, closing his eyes against the view of the green leaves and the blue sky above him. He realised that his hands were gently trembling.

"Hey…" the voice was soft and concerned. Akira opened his eyes again and saw the blue eyes of Kaede looking down on him; that beautiful face filling his vision. "…are you okay?"

Something had changed. And it was no small thing, although it was hard to give a name to. Glad of it, Akira gave a weak genuine smile, different from all the ones he'd given before. Kaede noted it.

"That was very scary" he admitted breathlessly. "Was it scary for you too?"

"No." Kaede offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. "I knew you weren't in danger."

They stood together for a moment, just a breath apart, looking directly into each other's faces, and thinking over what had just occurred. Kaede could feel the change between them as well. Akira wasn't smiling that ridiculous smile. His lips were still curved upwards but he was serious. He looked more handsome that way the fox-eyed boy caught himself thinking. He wanted to say something more but didn't have any words. It was Akira who began to speak;

"Would you believe me…" the older boy paused mid-sentence as if distracted by something. Then he hesitantly reached out a hand to gently brush a few strands of Kaede's fine fringe away from his eyes in order to see them more clearly. He dropped the hand heavily to his side again, his gaze locked with Kaede's; "Would you believe me if I said I knew that too?"

Kaede did not shy away from the gentle contact. After a moment he nodded silently. Akira trusted him: this he believed. But he knew their strange game was not over yet. The greater challenge was yet to come. Could Kaede trust Akira?

"Now it's your turn, okay?"

If Kaede was entirely honest he'd known it was coming, and he'd also secretly hoped it could be avoided. He creased his eyebrows. It was only fair, but…

"Akira…" he commented "…how? Can you even hit it?"

Akira smiled; he was ready for such a question.

"Don't worry. I won't shoot. I'll just raise the gun, I won't pull the trigger."

Kaede took a few moments to force himself to breathe in and out slowly in measured breaths. He found he had to once again close his eyes to shield himself from Akira's scrutiny. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up and his palms becoming clammy in nervousness. The question, the purpose, seemed to fill him up, transcending words and becoming an emotion, a physical force that filled his chest – could he trust Akira?

It was madness. Surreal. A desperate game. Russian roulette. He was gambling his life, but gambling his life on what? This… friendship. To what purpose? What did it mean to trust this man? What difference would it make?

Kaede Rukawa didn't trust people as a general rule. His whole life he'd relied on only one person – himself. He'd known emotions: the need to be accepted, the need to be loved, the joy of human contact and interaction. All these things he'd known but ultimately had withdrawn from. He'd seen and done too many cruel things to have faith in humanity any longer.

And here was his enemy, his _enemy_, asking him to risk his life. Offering him something… new. Was it just another meaningless escape, or was it really a way to move on – move forwards?

It was Akira who had taken the gamble first. Akira. Akira Sendoh. The name seemed to pulse through Kaede's very veins. His hands began to tremble as he couldn't control his rising emotions.

He could see the scenario in his mind's eye: himself exposed, trapped with his back against that tree, held there not by ropes or restraints but by his own will, his foolish trust, and Akira's triumphant smile as he pulled the trigger, perhaps even a cruel laugh of victory as he extinguished the life of such a dangerous enemy with such ease. _Victory with Ease_. The Rukawa motto. Fearing such things he looked up into Akira's eyes once again and saw no comfort there. Only a gentle sincerity. The choice was his and his alone; Akira would not and could not attempt to sway him.

He could refuse… but if he did, what would become of him? He would go back to being a Rukawa. Go back to being his father's second son. Go back to his dead existence, dead even while he was still breathing. Was that really a fate any better than his body destroyed as he stood against that tree? At least this way he might die for something, instead of living pathetically for the lack of anything.

This was madness to escape from madness. An initiation in blood. His all or nothing. Trust or despair.

His hand was shaking violently as he pressed the gun into Akira's palm. Realising it Akira's face filled with concern.

"Kaede… you don't…" _You don't have to_.

"Do it." The younger boy whispered hoarsely. Everything was weighing down on him unbearably. His reason appeared to have utterly fled. His eyes were so wild that they actually brought about a momentary burst of fear in Akira. He could never have imagined seeing the cool and capable Kaede this way.

Kaede didn't look at Akira again, but approached the tree with his eyes downcast and leant his back against it where Akira had just stood. It felt rough and uncomfortable but he forced himself to push himself back into it as hard as he could. He focused all his attention on it. All he had to do was stand there. Keep that tree at his back. That was all. Don't move.

Akira was retreating to the far side of the court where Kaede had been, gun in hand swinging gently at his side. Once he reached the place he turned back to face the younger boy across the distance. Kaede finally looked up and met his eyes. Electricity passed between them. Akira was startled by the raw emotions he could see on Kaede's face. He couldn't have imagined it more beautiful than it was at this moment. Entirely maskless. Kaede had discarded any attempt to disguise his fear; it was all clear to see. His ragged breathing, his fearful gaze, even the beads of salty terror which were collecting on his lower lashes. He looked so small, so vulnerable, so exposed and Akira suddenly hated to cause that distress. He was seized with a desire to toss the gun away, just throw it to the side and run to comfort that… child. And yet at the same time he knew that to do so would be the greatest insult he could give. He shouldn't underestimate Kaede. Hating himself for doing it, but unable to stop the game now, he raised the gun in two hands to eye level. Kaede had just fired it so there wasn't any need to cock it again; it was already ready to fire. The only thing that stood between Kaede and death was a single jerk of Akira's index finger.

The boy's eyes didn't leave his for a single second. Akira remembered the first day they'd met at the Shohoku courts. He could recall the emotions he'd felt while Tetsuo had directed a gun at him. He'd not been able to look at anything but that gun as though his eyes had been drawn to it by magnets. But now Kaede didn't look at the gun for even a moment. He looked only at Akira's eyes, for that was where the danger lay. The young Rukawa understood that the gun was just an object. It couldn't kill him. Only Akira could do that.

With slow, purposeful strides Akira began to approach Kaede keeping the gun level and steady. With every step he saw Kaede wince as though in pain. With every step he could see Kaede's face more clearly, the emotions raging there: terror and the struggle to master terror. The pale lips were parted and panting.

Akira's palms were sweaty to the extent that he feared the gun might slip and he held it even tighter, the grooves in the metal imprinting onto his palm. His hands were trembling as much as Kaede's were. This reversal of roles was considerably harder for each of them. He continued to approach one step at a time, drawing slowly closer and closer until he stood directly in front of the boy. With the last step he pressed the gun against Kaede's forehead. Kaede's knees buckled at the contact and he almost slid down the trunk. His eyes finally lost contact with Akira's and rolled upwards under his now closing eyelids as though he was fainting, throwing his fate entirely to the winds. The tears that had been welling there finally cascaded over and down his cheeks in two silent lines.

Perhaps it wasn't strictly necessary to touch him with the gun but Akira suddenly felt that Kaede should feel his own helplessness. Feel it not only as an emotion, as fear, but feel it as a physical presence, pressed against him. That loss of control. That giving wholly of yourself. That dependence. He wanted Kaede to feel exactly what it was to trust.

The boy's eyes were still closed and he was shaking uncontrollably. Akira waited only a couple of seconds in that position before gently squeezing his finger. There was a soft mechanical click from the gun. He'd put the manual safely lock back on.

Hearing that comforting sound Kaede gave a final violent shudder and became still. Akira didn't step back but he lowered the gun and tossed it away without regard as he had been longing to do all along. It fell to the ground some way away with a clatter. He found himself reaching out and taking hold of Kaede's upper arms in a gesture of support. The boy slowly opened his eyes. They were wet with tears, his beautiful lashes clumping together and becoming even more defined as a result. Those pale petal lips were parted and panting, his face gently flushed with emotion and his fringe clinging to the damp sweat on his forehead. His face was open and innocent, gazing at Akira's gentle smile in a daze. Akira's eyes drunk in the beautiful sight like a parched man drinking water. Kaede Rukawa. Kaede Rukawa. The name ran through him like a mantra.

Without thinking about it, without question and without hesitation Akira leaned forward and kissed those parted lips. A straightforward, decisive touch. Kaede's eyes widened in surprise but he did not attempt to move away. Akira smiled against his lips, his open eyes locked with Kaede's so close by as if to gauge his reaction. Finally, when no rejection was forthcoming, he reached forward and took Kaede's chin with his hand, tilting that pale face upwards to give himself a more comfortable position and he let his eyes close, savouring every drop of this forbidden nectar.

**Oh trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.**

Kaede's arms stayed useless and idle by his sides during Akira's gentle assault, neither moving to embrace the other boy nor to push him away. He was much too surprised to do anything; Akira had taken him at his weakest moment. He stood entirely still, accepting the kiss passively. But it might be noted that after a while his eyes slowly closed too.

Tbc~

Notes:

Long chapter (and it won't be the only one)! I already cut out a surplus scene (which will be reinserted later) since the chapter was over-flowing already!

There was a bit more Kaede in this than there has been in previous chapters. It's nice to write from his POV, he's so deliciously angst lol.

Since the narrative jumps between the two boys quite a lot () I hope it wasn't too confusing.

"Self-alley-opp tensai-style" lol – just my little nod to Sakuragi-kun :P

As always, please leave a message, even if just to say "my toes are cold", "boom boom boom boom, I want you in my room" or "let's think of 100 ways to give Kaede Rukawa a traumatic childhood and then write a fic about each one!"


	6. Chapter 6

**A Romeo and Juliet Story**

**Chapter 6**

_The previous version (1) of this chapter was uploaded 27__th__ Feb 2010, and has been replaced by this version (2) on 6__th__ May 2010._

_THIS IS A COMPLETE RE-WRITING (not just an edit). More information on changes follows at the end._

_Please note that Chapter 2 was also re-written and is a recommended reread if you haven't done so already._

The file landed on the table lightly. It was not particularly large, and it didn't result in anything like the satisfying puff of dust one might hope it would. Kaede stared at it with an intensity bordering on challenge. They called this place _the Library_ and yet it was more like a warehouse, with impersonal and cold metal filing cabinets stretching down so many identical, silent rows. Being in the basement as it was, there were no windows and no natural light, so sterile metal lamps hung from the ceiling low over the charmless tables that were set against one wall. On this sunny, quiet Sunday, the place was empty apart from the lone boy. Kaede sat himself at one of the unwelcoming tables with the file in front of him and hesitated.

The Rukawa library was not to be underestimated. While it contained scant few books, it was a complete catalogue of every transaction, purchase, sale, investment, meeting, staff, person, and family matter that had been or occurred since records began approximately two hundred years ago.

The file Kaede had picked up was a personal profile. Everyone who had any connection with the Rukawa family had one. Even Kaede himself had a record that listed his biography, personality, achievements and failures here somewhere in this metal maze. It was all saved meticulously in case, generations later, the information was needed. As if Hisashi's great-grandchildren might what to read about their reclusive and ill-reputed great uncle. The thought was laughable.

He examined the cover of the file. A complex tree of categories was drawn, which enabled this precise profile to be pin-pointed within this veritable mountain of papers. The first and broadest category was "personal profiles", followed by "20th century", "family: Sendoh (core)" and finally "inheriting". Below the category tree were the details unique to the file. A 10-digit code, a name in three characters "Sendoh Akira", and a space for three dates only the first of which was filled. Curious, perhaps, to have three dates instead of the usual two, but Kaede knew what they signified. The last one was of course reserved for the date of death. It was an unpleasant blank glowering at the world obnoxiously, waiting only for the inescapable stain of death to be carved in black marker pen, something which chased every single one of life's temporary passers-by; be they Sendoh, Rukawa or otherwise. This middle gap in-between the birth and death dates would signify the day yet to come when the old Sendoh would die and Akira would become the head of his house.

Kaede pressed his palm to that blank space and closed his eyes, trying to envision the future. What cloudbursts might happen between now and the day that space was filled? Was it a year away, or ten years, or even twenty? Where would Kaede be that day? Would he be standing beside his father, or would Hisashi already have inherited the house? Or – and the alien thought suddenly reared out of nowhere - could Kaede perhaps be head of the family instead?

Something long-forgotten moved uncomfortably inside him at that extraordinary thought. Sly, cat-like ambition flicked a lazy ear somewhere behind his stomach and set her green eyes upon him. She smiled and he was all at once clenched by a singular apparition which bust into existence like an eruption in the former quiet of his mind. It was an odd visualization where Akira and he stood in perfect parallel, as mirrors. He could see it as clearly as if it were a photograph in front of him, or a portrait on canvas in his hands.

He'd always been proud to be one of the Rukawa sons. He'd breathed it, lived it, and in turn it had shaped him. And yet… it was all at once no longer enough. That is to say: in comparison to _Akira_, it was suddenly no longer enough.

To be his equal rather than just a jester playing around at the feet of the throne. To be more than a dog kicked under the heels of his father and brother. To be his counterpart and, in turn, to have his respect, maybe even his awe. That was what he saw in his mind.

Quite why Akira's acknowledgement was so central to the thrill of the ambition eluded his attention for the moment. He could only see a fantasy of what it would mean, what it would be, for him to rise up once again.

With a sudden start he jerked his body back, away from the file, snatching his palm away as if it had been burned. His eyes shot open in horror at the opening like a window that had just been punched in his mind. Eight years. It must have been eight years since he'd last felt anything like this.

In an immediate, protective response he felt his mind mentally push everything away, those desires, those ambitions, back through the crack in the seal, resetting the barricades around his exhausted sanity. It wouldn't serve any purpose for him to crumble here and now, not after surviving for so long.

He looked down once again at the three characters which formed 'Sendoh Akira' on the front of the file and cursed the boy whose name it was silently. What was happening to him? Why did that name threaten him in a way like nothing had ever done? He already felt as though he was clinging to the edge of a great drop, and the name was like a boot descending to crush his fingers.

Dangerous. So dangerous.

The file on the table did nothing extraordinary, although Kaede was staring at it with suspicion as if there were magic or trickery involved. It was still closed innocently. He didn't really have to open it; he was only here out of curiosity. Most of the information inside would probably be biased or inaccurate anyway - they hadn't been able to get a mole into the Sendoh inner circles for some time. The best thing to do was to put it back and leave. Leave and not think about that kiss ever again. Try to forget those lips against his own which had been like needles jabbed into his soul.

Like an insect glimpsing a pinprick of light, doomed to approach it, he flipped the file open.

The first page was a contents page which promised information on a bewildering list of biographical events none of which held any meaning for Kaede. The following hundred or so pages were almost entirely solid text. Since he didn't have the first idea where to start, or truth be told, even what he was looking for; he went instead to the very last section, the photograph appendix. The pictures ought to be able to give information faster than trying to read through the intimidating writing. He settled his thoughts, tried his best to rein in his straining curiosity, and then took his first look into a different world.

The first photo was a simple profile shot stolen, it seemed, when Akira had been turning back to say something to whoever was behind him. His lips were parted and smiling and his eyes were bright with good-humour. Such a simple image made Kaede pause. Seeing that casual expression made the memory come back to him in a rush: the loss of control, the trembling of his hands, the sound of his heart in his ears, the cool metal on his skin and the hot mouth against his own.

He flipped the picture over quickly, determinedly suppressing the recollection, not allowing himself to dwell on it for more than a moment.

The next was one of Akira and Hanamichi together. The date stamp told him that it was only half a year old. The two of them looked happy together. Hanamichi had a half-empty beer bottle in one hand and appeared to be laughing manically. Nyahaha. Akira was looking at him with fond amusement. Another boy was half visible on Hanamichi's other side, turned towards the red head smilingly. They were seated on a black sofa with a coffee table at the bottom of the picture showing the edge of a pizza box. Perhaps they were in the living room watching the television together. A movie or a basketball match perhaps.

Trying to imagine himself with Hisashi in such a commonplace family setting was bordering on farce, so Kaede flipped that picture over quickly too.

The next one was a little different. It showed a stretch of beach and the sea beyond, empty except for a small figure facing the waves, looking away from the camera. It might really have been anyone standing there, but the unique hairstyle coupled with the brief footnote assured him that it was Sendoh Akira. Kaede found himself wondering whether that concealed face was still rotting with that theatrical smile or had it, in solitude, formed a different attitude?

Feeling himself strangely drawn to the image and with his curiosity piqued he checked the reference and turned to the page that it concerned. His critical eye glanced quickly over the words, picking out one section;

…_the Miura Peninsula, south of Yokohama. Miura Beach, particularly on Sundays..._

"Research?" The sudden voice sounded unusually loud in the quiet of the library. Kaede looked up thoroughly startled and was quick enough to catch a brief glimmer of friendly amusement in the new-comer's eyes. Kogure was leaning against one of the cabinets close to the stairs which led back up to the house, his arms folded in an idle and untroubled posture, watching him. Seeing that it was only Kogure, Kaede immediately relaxed, and Kogure returned his even gaze with an easy smile of greeting.

Kogure's presence had always been something Kaede had treasured, but for some unidentified reason he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at the interruption. He would have preferred to just pursue his reading in peace which, given his affection for Kogure, was strikingly abnormal.

Unaware of any of Kaede's odd thoughts, Kogure approached him where he sat at the table with complete ease.

"This is unusual for you" he commented. His voice wasn't accusatory and Kaede wasn't unduly concerned. He trusted Kogure absolutely, and didn't need to hide his recent dealings with Akira from him. In fact Kogure was the only person in whom Kaede would have confided the entire story… even the kissing part… if he'd felt the need to do so.

This hardly seemed the time for a lengthy introduction to the situation however, so he replied with a brief and dismissive "the job is complex", before returning intently to his reading.

"Oh" Kogure slid into the chair opposite from him and rested his chin on his hands. He took in the unusual sight of Kaede seemingly interested in something and he smiled. It was not often that Kaede showed curiosity in anything, most of the time he seemed too distant to care. Kogure noticed the slightly tense muscles of the reading face, and the way the fingers pressed the paper firmly down against the table as if the whole thing might fly away any moment. It was almost endearing to see Kaede so unmindful of everything around him, focussed with all his attention on those words which were offering him information on… what? Kogure didn't feel any need to look. Instead he merely contemplated the boy's posture for a while longer before speaking his observation;

"You look like a man who is looking for answers, but doesn't know the question."

Kaede quickly lifted his eyes to look across the table at Kogure once again, his fringe partly obscuring his sharp stare. He was all at once struck with the enormity of his own helpless confusion. Kaede had no idea what he was looking for. His thoroughly mixed perceptions of Akira were a constant source of torment to him and he sought distraction by trying to learn more about the cause of the irritation, as if the sensation could be rationalised by Akira's history.

The recollection of allowing himself to be caught up in that ridiculous game of trust appalled him now. Whatever faulty reasoning he had used to convince himself to do it at the time no longer made sense to him. A way to escape? A way to move forward? What exactly had short-circuited so fatally in his brain to make him believe that a friendship with that weird Sendoh kid could achieve any such thing? He knew full well that the accumulation of sin which followed his subconscious like the pack on the heels of the herd would not be eluded. And yet…

Seeing a troubled expression flicker momentarily on Kaede's features, Kogure rose immediately from his seat and went around to his side of the table. Kaede wasn't aware of his movement until he felt the gentle, delicate fingers entwining themselves in his hair, working their way down to massage his scalp fondly. Had it been anyone else, he would have jerked away and glared… but Kogure was different. Rather he actually closed his eyes and leant back into that pleasant touch gratefully.

Throughout his life Kogure had been a comfort to him in his darkest and most confused moments. They'd grown up together, quietly depending on one another. Their souls were meshed together to the extent that Kaede sometimes felt that his very ability to breathe depended on the sweet soul that warmed him. Kogure was his only consolation in a twisted existence.

The brown eyes flickered downwards and took a quick glance at the file under Kaede's fingertips. Kogure raised an eyebrow at the name he read there. Of course he'd heard what Tetsuo had said the day several weeks ago when Kaede had supposedly encountered Sendoh Akira at the local Shohoku basketball courts. He felt a tremor of misgiving to think that the episode was perhaps not finished. Surely it had been enough already. He had been the one, after all, who'd had to apply the medicinal ointment to Kaede's damaged eye that day.

"The question..?" Kaede repeated Kogure's observation from a few moments ago in a low mutter, clearly distracted. What _was_ the question? His lips sloped downwards unhappily and Kogure stared down at that face for a moment, realising that he'd never before seen it quite so affected by something. It caused him real concern.

"Kiminobu!" A sharp, annoyed voice pierced its way down the stairway to where they were both tangled in their own thoughts. Kaede's eyes flew open and they both looked quickly towards the stairway. The blue-eyed boy did not need to look up at Kogure to know that a smile was spreading over his face, despite the obvious irritation in the voice that had called his name.

Quite why Kogure was so very much in love with Hisashi was something Kaede didn't always understand, but at the same time it was something he'd always accepted. Whatever it was that attracted Kogure was no small thing, because the smaller boy very clearly loved Kaede's half-brother dearly. The three of them had spent so much of their youth together, and yet Kaede had never been able to isolate the point in time when Kogure and Hisashi had stopped being like brothers and become lovers instead. It had been a process so natural it was like watching a child at first so young and then suddenly becoming a teenager without you ever having noticed his increasing in size. It was as sincere and artless as the entirely reverse process that had occurred between Kaede and Kogure.

Something about the idea of the two friends ever being together in a romantic sense seemed thoroughly aberrant, although the precise reason for that Kaede wouldn't have been able to rationalise. They were as close as it was possible to be, they knew and loved each other affectionately, trusted one another blindly, and yet to bring that love to a physical fruitation would have seemed grotesque. For Kaede it would be like violating something divine and pure. It would never be. And yet their adoration of one another could not be exaggerated.

Hisashi appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Kogure untangled his fingers from Kaede's hair and moved to join his lover. Upon seeing his brother Kaede valiantly resisted the urge to snap the folder before him shut. Kogure finding him reading about Sendoh Akira didn't matter, but Hisashi would cause trouble. Thankfully he was well aware that Hisashi would not be interested in what he was doing so long as he did not draw any attention to himself. Kogure, of course, would never mention anything to him. Despite knowing this, Kaede couldn't help but feel a little relieved when Hisashi pulled Kogure into a rough, forceful kiss, clearly too interested in his lover to take any notice of his younger brother. He was dressed in his riding leathers which meant that they must be going out. He seemed even more intimidating and roguish than usual when he had Kogure so helplessly pressed against him.

Kaede took in the sight of them for a moment before looking away. The idea of Akira dominating him in the way Hisashi did Kogure appalled him momentarily. He thought back to their kiss and hoped more than anything that he hadn't looked quite so pathetic.

"We're going" Hisashi informed Kogure, grasping him by the wrist and pulling him back towards the stairs. He hadn't bothered to acknowledge Kaede's presence.

Kogure managed to look back briefly over his shoulder as they departed.

"I don't think you'll find your question or your answer down here, Kaede" he advised, with a soft smile which lingered in Kaede's vision even after the boy had disappeared from view. His words caused Kaede to wonder how much of the truth of the situation Kogure already suspected.

Alone again he looked down at the page in the file. _Miura Beach_. Reaching his decision he snapped it shut with a sudden motion, stood and quickly left without a backwards glance.

**Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,**

**Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorns.**

Akira was walking casually along the roadside with his fishing rod slung over one shoulder and a small box of bait gripped in his other hand. On the whole it had been a good day. The sun was only now just beginning to set on his right hand side, giving a gentle orange hue to the world around him, causing the quietly breaking waves to the left to appear like liquid fire. There was a pleasant sense of finality about the sunset, the sensation of a beautiful day coming to a beautiful close. The beach which ran parallel to the road was utterly deserted, the season still being too young and chilly for families to visit it. It would remain his exclusive sanctuary until the summer truly arrived in a few months time.

He'd come here today in a bid to escape his father's bad temper. A cloud of tension was prevailing over the Sendoh house and had been all week. They'd received news that an external crime syndicate known as the Maki Group had taken an interest in business in Kanagawa although the group themselves operated exclusively in Tokyo. Word had been sent that the head of the family himself would be visiting to meet representatives from the Sendoh and Rukawa families to discuss business in two weeks time. It had the potential to be one of the largest black market deals struck in Yokohama for decades.

As no peaceful negotiation had occurred between the Sendoh and Rukawa families for at least three generations, the upcoming meeting was being feverishly planned and re-planned by Akira's father who could talk of little else.

The only part of it that interested Akira was the possibility of seeing Kaede there. However, under the combined weight of both houses it seemed unlikely that they would be able to exchange words. Perhaps not even exchange glances. Nonetheless Akira wanted to see him. To confirm that what had passed between them in Odawara had not been just a dream.

He shifted the fishing rod on his shoulder to a more comfortable position. He was walking back to his car which he'd left a couple of miles down the empty road, having earlier been so enchanted by the beautiful day that he'd decided to abandon the vehicle and walk to the small fresh-water stream that was his fishing location. He'd spent the entire afternoon there, just enjoying the quiet and soothing peacefulness of nature while his mind had been a pleasant and continuous whirl of Kaede Rukawa.

He lifted his eyes and realised that he could now see the car he'd come in parked at the beachside. It was one of Hanamichi's; a royal blue BMW Z4. Akira hadn't even considered the possibility of taking out his own car which was by far the most expensive and least used machine in the family's entire retinue. That thing was like a precious family ornament, or one's best clothes; something reserved exclusively for only the most important occasions.

The red sunset had caused the BMWs shadow to extend dramatically across the sand in a thick, black stain which was only vaguely recognisable as the distorted shape of the car's beautiful contours. But… something was a little odd about the form of the silhouette, causing Akira to blink and re-evaluate it. There was an odd protrusion, a peculiar burst of lines at the shadow-car's rear section. Something rounded and spoked was stretching across the sand like a huge yawn.

It was the partial shadow of a bike wheel. Someone had parked next to him. Akira picked up his pace in curiosity. Had Hanamichi or Koshino come perhaps?

It wasn't long before his eyes could pick out the solitary figure laid back on the sand, nearly invisible since he was situated in the gloom of the car's outline. His head was resting back on his arms, one leg crooked and the other flat against the grains. The bike also became visible. Akira nearly stopped in surprise when he recognised the bright paint. His eyes flickered back to the reclining figure in disbelief. His heart began to jump in response to the hope he didn't feel confident enough to truly believe in. Surely it wasn't possible.

His legs carried him continually closer until he was crunching softly across the sand. The boy made no movement or response to his approach, still laying back, his face to the sky. Finally, standing beside the prostrate figure, Akira lowered his rod and bait box to the ground silently and looked down into the sleeping face of Kaede Rukawa. His breath caught.

The gentle sea breeze had brushed his soft fringe away from his face, leaving his closed eyelids and smooth forehead entirely revealed. There was not a single imperfection on his snow white skin. While relaxed in sleep he looked so much softer, gentler, than he did ordinarily. His usually sharp eyebrows were curved and less aggressive, and his mouth was not puckered in irritation but ever so slightly parted with peace breathing.

Tossed onto the sand beside him neglectfully was his gun, the now familiar kitsunes continuing their dances. The breeze has caused a small build-up of sand on one of its sides. If left overnight the dangerous hook of metal would probably become completely buried. It made Akira wonder quite how long Kaede had been waiting.

He was slightly taken-aback by the confidence implied by Kaede's posture. To enter a well-known enemy locale and then to fall asleep with such abandon, even to the point of discarding your gun, seemed remarkably lax. What if it had been Hanamichi, and not Akira, who had found him? The scenario did not bear thinking about.

With a concerned sigh he lowered himself to sit beside the sleeping boy and reached out with a soft hand to brush his face in order to gently rouse him.

He was cruelly shocked out of his ease when, although he'd barely touched the smooth cheek with the tip of his fingers, the world seemed as if to suddenly tip sideways around him. The next thing he knew was that he was on his back, a gun pressed insistently against his temple while he stared with surprise into a pair of blinking blue eyes. The unlikely speed of the sudden motion whereby the formerly sleeping boy had moved against his disturber caused sense to temporally evade Akira so that he could only stare, aghast and stupid and say nothing.

After a few anxious moments, Kaede seemed to wake enough to recognise Akira's face before him, and he drew back, the gun dropping into his lap. The taller boy sat upright and let his breath out in a long rush.

Kaede's sleepy eyes roamed enquiringly over him as if momentarily confused as to why Akira was there. They gradually steeled, however, as the last vestiges of sleep parted from him and he seemed to remember where he was. As if self-conscious about the whole thing, Kaede then turned his face to the ocean and Akira was filled with insuppressible curiosity as to what had brought him here.

He felt thrills that went right through to his core. It seemed obvious enough that Kaede had come specifically to see him, and that alone made this meeting more significant than all their others combined. It was not a meeting of chance or of debt, but of actual purpose. And to Akira it seemed little short of miraculous to have the unreachable blue-eyed boy sitting here beside him so openly. The knowledge that it was probably fairly risky for them to be together in such a prominent place hovered on the border of his thoughts; however he had no intention of expressing this concern aloud. The last thing he wanted was for these delighted tremblings in his chest to stop.

They sat in silence for a while. No words or greetings of acknowledgement were exchanged, but neither of them was really aware of that. Even Akira, who was typically a more talkative sort, felt nothing awkward about the silence. For Kaede, of course, it was more characteristic, always having been one to speak only out of necessity and not in redundancy. He felt grateful, in fact, that Akira was not attempting to converse because his mind was too preoccupied with Kogure's elusive _question_ and _answer _to concentrate on anything else.

He was sure he'd made the right decision in coming here. Somehow, sitting next to Akira felt more right, more natural, than gazing at the printed version of him had been. But still the whole thing continued to linger beyond his comprehension. What did he want? What had his purpose been in researching Akira, and in meeting him here? At present he was simply following his instinct blindly, giving into his lesser, primal urges in a desperate bid to understand.

He didn't know how the pressure in his chest could manifest itself into that _question_ which he so very badly needed to ask. It felt like an uncomfortable irritation in his throat, begging for relief. He decided to try to speak in an attempt to set it free, hoping perhaps that the question might inexplicably fall from his lips without him having to think too much about it.

"Why did you do it?"

His soft voice was very nearly carried away by the sea breeze, but Akira heard it.

The Sendoh boy managed to stifle his automatic response; 'do what?'No such superfluous words seemed acceptable here. Besides he admitted to himself that he knew exactly what Kaede was referring to. It seemed he hadn't been the only one who'd been dwelling on that moment over the past week.

"Because you were beautiful." It was the most honest answer he could give, while being simultaneously aware that he himself was not even sure of the reason.

"I'm not a girl" came the immediate and almost silent reprimand. And by it Kaede did not mean so much that he objected to being called beautiful but rather that he couldn't be expected to appreciate such shallow sentiments. Being considered beautiful he could accept, but being considered the type who wanted to be _told_ that he was beautiful bothered him. Somehow, Akira understood that.

"I didn't really mean your face" he said softly, with a smile at the recollection of it. The vision of Kaede as he had been broken, his soul dragged unwillingly out of its dark hiding place and into the sunshine had been glorious. Not that Akira had wanted to cause that distress – it had been an unfortunate side-effect – he had just wanted to… _see_ him. Now he watched Kaede's profile curiously and caught the small creasing of his forehead which indicated his confusion, and the ever-so-slight parting of his lips in dissatisfaction.

He was impatient for Kaede to respond, seized with indomitable curiosity about what thoughts existed in the other boy's mind. What visions and fantasies did he see? What memories he had taken away from that warm day in Odawara? But to his frustration Kaede remained silent.

_In due time,_ he consoled himself silently, with an inward sigh, _in due time his secrets will be unlocked for me, but I must not push him. He has come to me here of his own violation and for now… that is enough._

The thought raised a question which escaped from his lips before he had the chance to check it;

"How did you know to find me here?"

And Kaede, in much the same manner let the answer begin to escape,

"I read…" before stopping himself short in the sudden certainly that he couldn't admit to Akira that he had been researching him. Not only out of a feeling of pride, but also with the realisation that just as he had been reading about Akira, no doubt Akira could do the same of him. He knew that the events of six years ago would no doubt be documented in the Sendoh archives; that family had been instrumental in the affair after all. But the idea of Akira finding out what had happened, what he had done, which two weeks ago wouldn't have troubled him in the slightest, suddenly seemed apocalyptic in magnitude. It gave him a sensation of vertigo, as if he were looking down a steep precipice with no barriers to stop his impending fall. The enormity of his mortification was equalled only by his surprise at how much he cared. His earlier fantasy of standing in parallel to Akira, winning his respect and awe, now seemed abruptly perverse. He was reminded that the reason he'd been cast down in the first place was that he deserved nothing more than to be despised by the world. That he was despicable even to himself. A monster.

Yet the idea of Akira hating him was suddenly unbearable. The last straw in a much cursed life. It filled him with a regret that he felt keenly, even more so after having kept such emotions at bay for so long. Regret over what he had lost and would never be able reclaim. Regret that he could never again be innocent. Regret that because of it, Akira would despise him.

A rush of feeling suddenly came upon him even as he valiantly tried to hold it back. Guilt was its fore-runner, but even that was quickly superseded by a crippling shame, self-loathing, misery and the first black sparks of despair, almost as if all the feelings he'd denied himself in recent years were coming upon him all at once. He felt his mind become paralyzed in the deluge. As the moments passed, more and more long-bottled emotion made it way up through the fog and into his consciousness, causing his resistance weaken and weaken until the exponential growth overwhelmed him with its gathering pace. He felt as if the ground beneath his feet was tipping from side to side in a sickening, plunging motion, sending him mentally tumbling.

He turned his wide eyes like lamps upon Akira, the catalyst of this descending turmoil, and felt something else entirely at once overshadow his other feelings. _Desire_ - ferocious and sharp-fanged like a shark rising out of the gushing waters of his undammed emotions.

Even as his mind struggled to contend with the chaos enveloping him, his body was already acting as though drugged with it.

"Akira…" his syllables sounded slurred, almost drunken, and drenched in his want. As Akira turned towards him he reached out as if taking destiny in his two hands. Gun-calloused and blood-gory as they were he found they were still adequate to cup that handsome face securely as he leant forward, vaguely horrified by what he was about to do, and kissed him forcefully.

The act caused an absolute hush in Kaede's mind, as though it were suddenly deserted: passing momentarily through the eye of the storm. Everything focused upon one pin-point of insight. That bead then fell like a drop of water descending from great height into a vast subterranean lake. The musical note that it made echoed and reverberated about the still and silent air of the cavern, starting a proclamation of sounds where before there had been nothing. It was the first note in a long fall which would be undoubtedly spectacular. Perhaps it was that beautifully clear music which caused a loosening of dust and stones from the cavern roof: the physical manifestation of a sanity being rocked.

Kaede's higher consciousness panicked and reached out blindly into the mental abyss for that calming presence which had always been the preserver of his sanity. He who, through all the years they had known each other, had given Kaede the help and strength to maintain the mental walls which kept madness at bay. The boy who held the keys to the cell that contained the last feeble flutterings of Kaede's long abused soul. That face … someone important to him… the eyes… surely they were brown but…

…with dismay Kaede realised he could not remember his name. It didn't matter how much he silently called out for him. He could not hear. He was not there.

Instead Kaede was pressing himself against the very antithesis. The blue-eyed Akira Sendoh who, during the few short weeks of their acquaintance had caused such damage to Kaede's mental stability that the boy was, for the first time in years, aware of emotion. Pure and real and engulfing him mercilessly. He was no longer capable of fighting it.

The silken cocoon that Kogure had so carefully weaved to protect the delicate orb of Kaede's soul was snapping and breaking as Akira flew into it like an angry bee. The little gem tipped out of its protective shell and fell, in a glitter of light towards the floor, perhaps to smash into a thousand shards of madness.

Akira was holding him tightly, his hands clenched in his hair, and kissing him with all the ferocity that Kaede needed from him, the pleasure of it keeping the chaos of despair temporarily at bay. He wanted and needed nothing quite so much as to be utterly powerless in this embrace.

He felt a warm tongue sliding against his own, invading him, possessing him, and drawing a tight moan from his throat as if his soul was being pulled out through his mouth. His hands were clinging to the front of Akira's cotton shirt, desperately holding him close as his only anchor in the whirlwind. It was all too much; blackness flickered on the edge of his vision.

_Please_

_catch me_

_Akira_

_ catch me_

_don't let me_

_fall._

It was clear now that this was what he had come here to do. Perhaps everything over the last few weeks had been leading up to this violent reckoning. The _question_ he'd been seeking an answer to he now knew could never have been expressed in words. It was this. Body against body, lips against lips, one soul calling out to another. Furious need. Burning entreaty.

Their embrace was tightly entwined as they continued to kiss with fervour; and all the while the walls of Kaede's world crumbled and fell all around them, rocking the ground with their collapse.

"**love is… a madness most discreet"**

~tbc

Comments:

Many thanks to those who reviewed the previous version of this chapter. You were all very kind, and yet you made me realise just how much I had lost direction! This chapter and all its senru is dedicated with much gratitude to Orangesandlemons and Irrelevancy. I hope it makes up for the previous version, haha.

The two-chapter sequence involving Kogure and Akira has been cut. Boom! It's gone. It was a tough decision, but I realised that the things I needed to say about Kogure-and-Kaede's relationship could be handled differently. I went back and re-wrote chapter 2, and then had to spend quite a while re-envisioning this chapter. Since this section wasn't in my original draft of the story it's taken me a LONG TIME to write. It's really hard to make all the various strings fit together and make sure I don't leave anything crucial out D: I really hope I don't have to come back and re-edit this because I forgot something important.

I'm not really one for writing physical descriptions (they were kissing in this chapter, in case you didn't realise – lol!) No really. I feel like every time I try and write about "intimate" things it sounds too vulgar. Tongues and teeth clashing and sweat and saliva and other liquids (!) really aren't my forte *cough*.

Please leave a review if only to say "this took you ages", "we thought you had died" or "hurry up with the next one, fool!"


	7. Chapter 7

**A Romeo and Juliet Story**

**Chapter 7**

_For Orangeorlemons, with gratitude._

It is only now that he is this close that I can see just how far away he is. I can see the fine hairs on his cheeks but I am no nearer to him than I was on that first day under the moon. It's as if he stands on a pinnacle and I, being below it, cannot see the whole of him. I am only aware of the parts that exceed the edge, the parts that he allows to be visible. Trying to understand him, trying to pin him down, is like trying to catch the wind in a net. Even what I am most sure of seems an illusion at best, and is just as insubstantial. But I want him to be real. I want him so much.

I draw back from his soft sleeping form which is in such opposition to his hardened wakeful one. This physical closeness I know is not an acceptable substitute. I can't delude myself over it. No matter how long or how hard I press my lips to his, nor how hot his fire under my fingertips seems, my fiercest, most violent efforts wouldn't touch his soul. And I… I am at a lost as to what to do. Never have I felt so helpless.

It doesn't matter how long I stare, all I can see is perfection. There's not a single flaw in his veneer. Even when he is sleeping like this, it's impossible to see what is underneath. Whether the innocence I think is there is my own determined imagination or whether it's real doesn't quite hold. I want to believe in him. Will that be enough?

* * *

_He was dreaming again after so many tolerable nights. The girl was there as if she'd never left. She probably never had. Her hair was stuck to the side of her face with the tears that continued to fall even after all these years. She was staring at him, the blue-eyed boy who'd been her afternoon playmate. But of course he looked different now. He was taller, bigger, almost a man while she remained her eight year old self. It was amazing how quickly children could make friends. For her it had been just a few hours spent playing together, although for him it had been half a lifetime._

_Her mother was there too, sitting in the armchair as she always liked to do on quiet afternoons. She didn't bother to comfort her crying daughter however. She only stared at her blankly as if confused; slumped sideways in the seat, blood pouring from the puncture in her forehead._

_And the girl's tears… what were they for? For her dead mother or for the childhood splattered in red gore across a cream carpet. Or perhaps for the boy in front of her who would never be able leave this place. Did she realise in her final minutes that he was the one who would be eternally trapped in this moment. That although he would soon leave her side, she would never again leave his and that that would be her revenge, more complete than she could ever hope?_

_That was right._

_He'd killed the mother first._

_

* * *

_

Kaede sat bolt upright with a gasp, the eerie twilight glow immediately filling his vision and driving the daytime scenery of his dream away. Above him the gaudy sky was streaked with reds and oranges like the last desperate clawing of the recently set sun; blood running down a plane of glass. The now familiar beach where he'd spent most of the day looked different in the blue-hour light. Less real, somehow. The strange sky gave an odd, crinkled effect to the outline of Akira's figure sitting nearby, looking out towards the dark waters as if he too were part of a melting veracity.

Kaede blinked in confusion.

"I fell asleep?" he murmured puzzled, causing Akira to look back at him.

"Yeah." _Actually, you passed out_.

Kaede's fingers strayed to his lips as he gathered his recollections. How terribly distorted the world suddenly seemed. He could remember the heat of being touched, held, and kissed so clearly it was as if the warmth was still lingering on his skin, but when he ran his palm over his bare forearm it felt cold to touch. He noticed Akira's distance from him and was aware of it as if it were the distance between victory and defeat. Mere millimetres could turn a basket into a failure, but Akira was far beyond his arm's reach. Kaede ached with the space.

"Why…" he began to ask what question he didn't even know, but he stopped short as the thing that had roused him from his dream a moment ago came to his attention. There was an odd vibration in his jeans pocket; the silent call of his mobile phone. Groggily he fished it out and blinked at the display, recognising the familiar name there. Seeing those letters flashing so insistently at him made his throat constrict uncomfortably. It was too soon. He wasn't ready to leave this comfortable place yet, even though it was dissolving around him faster and faster with each passing moment. It was as if the vibration of the phone in his hand was shaking the stardust from his eyes. He pressed the green engage button and brought it to his ear,

"Akagi-san?"

"_Kaede-sama"_ the voice came faintly back through the phone's earpiece. Kaede could feel Akira's eyes fixed on him immediately, probably brimming with emergency. It was a cheerless moment, to remember that Akagi was Kaede's ally but Akira's enemy. Another crack across the spider-web glass. He heard Akira shift and lean closer in order to hear the conversation more clearly, but only succeeding in making the distance between them seem even greater.

"_I am calling to tell you that there will be a meeting to discuss the Maki event at eight and your presence is required._"

It was a summons, an order; there wasn't even any pretence of it being a request. But still he couldn't help relaxing in relief, as if worse news had been avoided.

"I understand." Even his voice sounded a little relieved.

There was a pause which continued for longer than it had a right to, causing Kaede to prompt;

"Is that all, Akagi-san?"

"_Actually…_"

Akira noticed the way Kaede immediately tensed, his whole frame becoming stiff in anticipation of whatever might be said next, almost as if preparing himself to receive a blow. Something about the honestly of such an anxious motion drew him. It was uncharacteristic of Kaede to be so obviously readable, to display his discomfort so clearly, and due to it Akira's attention focussed fully on his companion to such a degree that couldn't fail to see what happened next;

"…_details on a new job for kitsune will be forwarded to you later this evening._"

A shudder, an odd convulsion of muscles as if in reaction to the sight of something foul ran through Kaede's thin frame. Weird and a little grotesque it caused Akira to move closer in concern, to look into the face of the boy beside him. Kaede's blue eyes looked quickly away and refused to meet his own.

After a few non-committal murmurs into the handset, Kaede disengaged the call and glanced down at his watch in some confusion.

"I have to go." He seemed disorientated, although perhaps that was simply because he had only a few moments ago woken up. Looking down at his own watch Akira noticed it was already seven o'clock. If Kaede was going to make the eight o'clock meeting it was true that he would have to leave now.

But he couldn't just let this strange incongruity go. He'd heard Akagi use the two names _Kaede-sama_ and _kitsune_ separately, almost as if they referred to different people. It was more than enough to rouse Akira's indomitable curiosity. He opened his mouth to form the beginnings of a query, but then he noticed Kaede's posture and paused. The eyes ever so slightly downcast, an unexpected meekness about him and a brimming despondency made Akira stare. He'd not seen such obvious discomposure from the boy before. The Kaede he knew seemed always strong and always proud. To see him looking so uncharacteristically defeated made the as yet unformed syllables in his mouth dissolve into innocent breaths of silent air, his unspoken questions sounding only in his mind.

"I have to go."

It was probably this redundant repetition of words more than anything that awoke Akira to the fact that something was terribly wrong. That everything might be about to slip away from him without warning. That their newly grown interest in each other was still as delicate as the dew.

"Wait..." he may even have stretched out a hand towards the figure that was already standing and turning to leave _What job?_ "…Kaede…" _What is the kitsune?_ "…Kae…"

His words were in vain; it was as if Kaede wasn't even aware of Akira's presence any longer. His recent stir of self-awareness had receded, sinking back down into the gloom of his subconscious so that the momentarily expressive eyes returned to what they had previously been; empty. It was as if the timid face of Kaede's soul which Akira had with such patience coaxed up to the windows of his eyes had suddenly darted back into the darkness of the house. Still there no doubt, but no longer visible; hiding away from the world. Looking into those wasteland orbs told a story of places abandoned to winds and time, and Akira knew enough to see that Kaede was further away than ever, just slipping between his fingers like sand.

Watching him leave reeked of powerlessness. He hated it. He kicked at the sand in his frustration even as the motorbike started up with its signature roar. Hadn't they been getting somewhere? Yes, Kaede had still seemed distant but the gap had been closing. Just a little more and maybe, just a little and perhaps… but then this. Why had Akira lost sight of him yet again? It didn't seem fair.

Alone and despondent he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked up at the blackening sky with a long sigh. He had no sure way of knowing when or even if he'd see Kaede again, and there were so many unresolved questions that it was maddening. A part of him wanted to hurl something at the sea in a rage, but he managed to retain his outward calm.

In the stifling silence a vague memory of Kaede's words came to him.

_I read…_

And all at once an idea presented itself.

**But to himself so secret and so close,**

**So far from sounding and discovery.**

Akira kicked off his shoes and tossed his bag into a corner of the entrance way. They would be collected and taken to his room by a housemaid later on. He didn't want to waste any time, he intended to go straight to the archives and see if he could find any information on this _kitsune _that seemed to be something more significant then he'd originally realised. Not just an innocent nickname for those blue fox eyes but something more ominous entirely.

He began to move through the large hallway towards the rear stairs where the door to the basement was situated, but was suddenly stopped by a familiar voice calling him from a reception room to his left.

"Akira!"

Very few people called him anything other than 'Sendoh-sama' so the list of possible candidates was narrow.

He turned and saw Hanamichi standing in the doorframe and gesturing irritably at him. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to get back? Your phone is _off_ in case you didn't realise."

"Ah… sorry I er…" Akira scratched his head, conscious that he'd spent most of the early evening watching Kaede sleeping on the beach and temporarily unable to form an excuse from that image.

"Forget it!" Hanamichi spread his hands in aspiration "Dad's called us for a discussion about the bloody Maki thing. I swear if I hear that damn name one more time I'm gonna head-butt something!"

Akira grinned "that bad huh?" He found it pleasingly ironic that he was in the same situation as Kaede and it lightened his mood a little, as if he'd just rediscovered the breadcrumb trail between them.

"Let's just get to the stupid meeting before its gets any later" Hanamichi grumbled, grabbing his brother by the elbow and practically dragging him away from the archives' doorway towards the large conference rooms in the east wing of the mansion. Reluctantly Akira allowed himself to be led, a little annoyed that satisfying his curiosity about the _kitsune_ would have to wait.

The two Sendoh boys burst into a spacious room occupied by seven people clustered around one end of a long conference table which could comfortably seat a dozen more. The table was covered with any number of papers and files apparently pertaining to the discussion. Their father, Taoka, sat at the head of the group, leaning forward on his elbows, clearly having just had his speech interrupted by the entrance of his two sons. He didn't look too impressed about it.

Six close allies flanked him. There was Shinobu Koshino, Ryoji Ikegami and Hideo Fukuda as well as the huge hulking figure of Uozumi Jun. These four men all stood and bowed from the waist as Akira and Hanamichi entered. Akira responded with a dip of his head. Of the final two individuals, the person sitting furthest away and frantically scribbling down minutes was the young Hikoichi Aida, Akira's first cousin and junior. The person occupying the position at Taoka's immediate left was Hikoichi's father Masaya Aida. Masaya was the overseer of the archives and head of the intelligence team, and easily Taoka's most trusted ally, not to mention his brother in law. He had a face which showed that the best years of his youth were behind him. There were soft, greying streaks in his hair and wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled, which was often. He'd been a prominent figure in Akira's childhood and was something of a favourite-uncle as a result. Time had revealed him more in love with his books than with the fray so the last decade and a half had been spent moderately in an office, reading and calculating and spinning the webs that enabled the Sendohs to compete with the Rukawas on an even field. Unlike the others in the room he didn't stand up to bow but simply smiled warmly at his two nephews as they entered, greeting them with a friendly gesture of his arm. He made a stark contrast to the glowering anger of their father sitting heavily in his seat right beside him.

Akira took his seat in the vacant chair reserved for him directly at his father's right while Hanamichi sat himself further down the table as dictated by protocol.

"As I was just saying" Taoka enunciated clearly, glaring at the latecomers as he did so "not knowing who Rukawa will choose as his two delegates puts us at a real disadvantage."

Koshino was busy surveying the mountain of papers on the table disheartendly.

"So we should research every possible person?" he queried as he picked up the nearest file which displayed the name _Myagi Ryota_. "It looks like Aida-san has brought half the archive up with him." Sorting through the vast quantity of documentation seemed an impossible task.

"But since the Rukawa house has two sons" Hikoichi piped up from further down the table "can't we assume that Anzai would choose them as his delegates just we have chosen Sendoh-sama and Hanamichi-sama?"

The query seemed entirely reasonable to Akira however it was met by an oddly stretched silence as all eyes turned to Hikoichi. Taoka stared at the young boy for a long moment as if trying to determine whether he was being serious or not before bursting into an unexpected uproar of laughter. He even had to clutch his stomach as tears of mirth leaked from his eyes. Many of the other faces around the table made faint echoes of him by smiling coolly. Akira raised his eyebrows at the strange reaction.

Apparently unable to control his amusement Taoka waved a hand at Masaya, indicating that he should explain. With a patient smile Masaya immediately leant forwards on the table in indication that he would speak.

"You are correct Hikoichi, the Rukawa house had two sons" he reached into the pile of files and pulled two towards him. One red file was scrawled with the name "Hisashi Rukawa" and the other blue one read "Kaede Rukawa" with "(Kitsune)" following in brackets. Akira only had a moment to register Masaya's use of the past tense before the man continued to speak.

"However the younger son, the so-called _kitsune_, was disinherited several years ago."

Akira saw Hikoichi gape and mentally did the same.

"Why?" he asked a little too quickly.

"Ah… it was a fairly complicated affair. Basically he was convicted and sentenced for a double murder. A woman and her young daughter in fact. Anzai quite correctly realised the damage it could do to his relationships with his contacts and had to take some action to remove him from the equation."

Akira's eyes could not have widened further "But, did he really do it?" he blurted out, and knew immediately that his curiosity had overstepped some invisible boundary when all eyes turned him. _Did he do it?_ was of course not the obvious question to ask.

"Of course he did Akira, don't ask stupid questions" his father said irritably.

"But what does it mean…?" Hanamichi asked with curiosity "…to be disinherited? Isn't that like being exiled or something?"

"Oh no, it's only an official term. Just think of him as no longer being a true member of the family, but just another of their underlings. He's lost most of the internal influence he would have had, as well as any claim to main seat of the house."

Hanamichi sent Akira a brow-raised glance down the table, but Akira avoided meeting his eye.

Masaya continued, "At the time the judge ruled that it was a random killing and deemed him mentally unstable. Rumours about it circulated for months. With his reputation so inexorably ruined Anzai was left with little choice. A boy that twisted might serve as a useful tool, but can hardly be acknowledged as second to the line. This is a business after all."

Akira stared at the mahogany table, but didn't see it at all. All he could see was Kaede under the midnight moon by the weeping willow, utterly beautiful and heartbreakingly alone. It couldn't be true. It had to be a mistake. How could anyone confuse that exquisite, unobtrusive boy with some kind of demented murderer?

No, it wasn't possible. There was definitely some kind of oversight. He must have been innocent, falsely imprisoned, or else Masaya and Taoka had confused the facts. For surely, if it were true, then the moon would have had no business in adoring him like that. Surely she would have winked her great eye and cast him into darkness.

Further along the table Hanamichi's lips were pursed, "then… he is… irrelevant?"

Taoka smirked, "Let's put it this way…" he reached out to the two files Masaya had pulled out and with a neat flick of his wrist he sent the blue one bearing Kaede's name spinning away down the entire length of the table "…one thing we can be sure of regarding Anzai's choice of delegates is that he will _not_ be choosing that trash."

Akira wanted to wince with every inch of the file's trajectory. The whole thing was made that much worse by the knowledge that it was precisely that file which Akira had been intending to find only minutes earlier, and that the words and pictures it contained he would have given worlds to peruse. It was enough that he even managed to restrain himself from reaching out to catch it as it passed him by. There was nothing to stop its ignoble flop off the far end where all its leaves, so valuable to Akira, scattered like so much waste paper over the carpet.

A terrible feeling of guilt passed over him. Didn't he owe Kaede more than this? Ought he not defend him somehow? It was true that he didn't know exactly what may have happened in the past, but he seized with the conviction that not a single person at this table knew Kaede as well as he did. How could he be wrong about this? He couldn't possibly be so badly mistaken. He _trusted_ Kaede.

For the first time he became aware of the profound shift within himself. For the time it took for the file to make its shameful journey down the table under the sneering stares of everyone present he was not among friends but among enemies. They looked down on Kaede as if he were nothing, not even worth their attention, and Akira wasn't one of them. Not anymore. Perhaps not ever again. It seemed to him at that moment that Kaede had more strength, more dignity and more competence than the lot of them together. There was nothing like adversity to set your winding road dead straight.

A moment's silence followed while everyone considered the discarded file as if it were a gruesome carcass. Then Koshino once again began to speak, bringing their attentions back around to business; "In that case, what are the chances of Anzai choosing Hisashi as one of his delegates?"

"Very high…" Masaya started to reply, but Akira was no longer listening.

_This is betrayal…_ he realised with sudden clarity, mad only in the sense that he hadn't realised it before. Not so much the acts of meeting Kaede, talking to him or being with him; those things were innocent enough. But instead where those things would lead him – to care for him, to wish to defend him, ultimately to trust him even above his own family – that was where treachery lay.

Was he already a traitor or only on a path to becoming one? Did such a distinction matter? Could it be avoided? _Do I even _want_ to avoid it?_

**Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel.**

Once the meeting had ended, Akira jogged to catch up with his uncle who was making his way back to the basement archives to return the files he had brought up with him. A couple of the house servants were assisting him by carrying boxes containing the papers which had previously been scattered over the table.

"Uncle!"

The older man turned and smiled at his approach.

"Sendoh-sama!"

Akira immediately winced at the formality of the name, coming to a stop beside him.

"How many times have I asked you not to call me that?" he complained, reminding himself of an indignant child before his older relative.

"Ahh…" Masaya gave a good-natured chuckle "…but your father is so strict about these things."

Akira sighed and spoke his position directly, "Uncle, I want to know more about Kaede Rukawa."

Masaya's eyebrows disappeared into his fringe with surprise at the unusual request "the _kitsune_?" When Akira gave a short nod of confirmation, Masaya continued, "but why should he interest you?"

"It seems to me…" Akira picked over his words with utmost delicacy, not wishing to repeat his earlier mistake of over-enthusiasm "…that the Rukawa house has kept him in shadows over the past few years. I didn't even know his name until recently. If they have something to hide, isn't it natural that I should want to know about it?"

Masaya smiled "_In shadows _you say? That's a surprisingly apt way to put it," he seemed amused by Akira's choice of words, "you'd better come in."

He turned and led the way down the stairs and into the basement bowels of the mansion. He instructed the servants to put the boxes of files into his office so he could sort them himself later on.

The said office was annexed to the main section of the basement which was devoted to the vast quantities of documentation which made up the Sendoh _archives_. It was almost a perfect mirror to the _library _of the Rukawa house, although Akira was unaware of such a parallel. While the metal cabinets gave the main room a cold, surgical feel, Masaya's small office was comfortably furnished with welcoming colours, although a little claustrophobic due to the lack of windows and natural light. It was like a warm den secreted away in the depths of the house, filled with the smell of musty paper and old books.

Upon entering the room the older man proceeded to prepare two cups of tea for himself and Akira using the modest kettle set on a side cabinet. Once finished he sat back in his office chair, opposite Akira on the other side of the desk, took a delicate slip of the scalding liquid and looked thoughtful.

"The _kitsune_ you said?"

Akira gave half a nod, "Yes… Kaede Rukawa".

"Well… what do you want to know?"

Akira could reply immediately and without hesitation "what is the significance of the name _kitsune_?" The name was beginning to seriously trouble him. He didn't understand why everyone insisted on using it. Thinking back to the meeting he realised that he hadn't once heard anyone refer to the blue-eyed boy by his given name.

Masaya gave a brief, humourless smile, "Alright, well, it will make more sense if I start from the beginning."

At Akira's nod, he set his cup down and began.

"Let me tell you a bit about the Rukawa boys: when they were both still very young, it was found that the younger son had a natural skill in gunmanship. In the light of this, Anzai became fixated on what he thought was an excellent idea for the future of his house. He planned to have each son become specialised in order to create an invincible front, a kind of double-team as it were.

"For Hisashi, who is of course his heir, he envisioned the perfect businessman, sharp, intelligent, moderated, and he spared no expense to educate him. As Hisashi's counterweight and support he decided to make use of his younger son's natural abilities and create an unrivalled fighter. I won't deny that it was a very elegant concept. Together the two brothers ought to have been invincible."

Akira thought about the impression he had of the older Rukawa son derived from all the stories Hanamichi had told him.

"But… that doesn't sound much like Hisashi" he commented slowly.

Masaya nodded briefly.

"You're correct of course. Anzai completely failed to fulfil his vision. It soon became obvious that Hisashi was the more aggressive and confrontational of the two, and the younger one the quieter and less impulsive one. In short, Anzai had their personalities completely backwards. By the time the mistake was obvious he'd already pushed the younger one so far into a violent mindset, against his natural grain that he was no longer capable of what might be described as normal function. If you ever meet him you'll find he is a very peculiar young man. Empty, almost as if he's not all there, not awake. I wouldn't go so far as to call him mad, but he certainly is very strange."

With a jolt Akira realised that he could recognise this description of Kaede. He remembered how the boy had acted as he was leaving the beach, right after receiving Akagi's phone call. He had been so absent, almost robotic, as if he were moving without thought or reason in actions that were programmed and automatic.

At the time Akira had thought that such behaviour was exceptional, but Masaya seemed to be implying that it was his usual conduct.

_I thought I hadn't touched his soul but I…_

_Was I mistaken?_

_Was I closer than I could possibly have realised?_

"The culmination of this" Masaya continued, oblivious to Akira's turmoil "was that he was caught during that particularly gruesome assassination and after the trial was held at the juvenile prison in Fuchu."

Akira immediately looked up "Wait, what do you mean 'assassination'? You said it was a random killing."

Masaya gave a short, humourless chuckle. "Oh no, I only said that the judge deemed it so."

Akira blinked. Something significant was being implied but he couldn't grasp it, it was so frustrating typical of Kaede to be physically close but impossible to reach. His confusion must have been visible on his face because Masaya leaned forwards and spoke softly, as if telling him a secret.

"The fact of it is that _kitsune_ is an alias and the boy is an assassin. One of the most highly paid in Asia in fact."

Akira stared at him.

It was obvious from his countenance that Masaya believed what he was saying to be fact. His eyes revealed no trickery, no falsehoods, perfect honestly. The frankness and accuracy of his account left Akira with no where to run, and no more energy to deny it.

An assassin?

It seemed more likely than the idea of a madman but still… a_n assassin_? There was such a huge range of implications that that word entailed: a mercenary, a hired gun, one who kills for money, one who walks in shadows, untrustworthy, devious, dangerous, a killer in cold blood. With a feeling of creeping cold Akira realised that more than one of those adjectives could hold Kaede with less difficulty than he would have liked.

"After he was detained, Anzai paid huge bribes resulting in his early release two years later. The amount of money that must have changed hands gives us some clues as to how valuable the _kitsune_ is. Our last approximation estimated that he makes up about one fifth of the Rukawa house's entire turnover. That's a fairly monstrous figure, as I'm sure you can appreciate. He's been commissioned by most of the larger syndicates at some point or other, including Maki and the Sawakitas…"

"When?" Akira interrupted him suddenly, his voice oddly hollow.

"Hmmm?" Masaya looked quizzically at his unhappy nephew, not understanding the question.

"You said he got caught. But he is not in prison now so, when was that?"

"Oh…" the older man appeared to think for a moment, "…it would be about six years ago now."

_Six years ago…_

"But then, at the time he must have been…" Akira stopped, unable to continue with the realisation that had just struck him, but Masaya seemed to understand.

"…that's right." He confirmed, "He was ten years old."

_No way._

What kind of demented childhood would admit a ten year old boy to commit acts of murder?

_Kaede… what the hell did they do to you?_

On his knees Akira's hands curled into fists of anger at the injustice of it all. _They called him trash_ he remembered, suddenly incensed. _They looked down on him when they knew, they __**knew**__ what had happened. That he had been nothing more than a boy. That his own family broke him and threw him away before he was even old enough to make a decision for himself._

Perhaps seeing the clench in Akira's jaw, Masaya frowned and moved an arm to draw his attention.

"Akira, you shouldn't waste pity on that boy. Whatever the circumstances of his past, it doesn't change or excuse what he has become. He is a killer, and a dangerous one at that."

"But, uncle, are you sure Kaede still works as a… you know… an assassin?"

"Oh yes. I'm certain Anzai wouldn't have paid his way out of Kanto if he didn't think it would be profitable for him."

_Is it possible that I am nothing more than his target? Has everything up until now been some kind of elaborate trap?_

"You should be extremely cautious of him_,_" Masaya said gravely "Hisashi may be the more aggressive of the two, but the _kitsune_ is far, far more dangerous."

But…_ I trust you, Kaede Rukawa._

"Uncle…" Akira almost stammered over the word in his indignation, wanting to say so many things to counter the unkind insinuations;

_Do you know how many opportunities he has had to kill me but taken none? _

_Do you know he saved my life, and even took punishment on my behalf? _

_Do you know his whole body trembles with horror just at the sound of that damn name _kitsune_? _

_Do you realise that just below his exterior there is a soul, tenderness, warmth, and humanity just as there is in any one of us?_

_Do you realise just how badly you have misjudged him?_

_I am not wrong. _

_No matter what you say or what may have happened in the past I __**know**__ I am not wrong about him._

In the end the words remained unspoken on his lips; there was just no way for them to say them out loud. When he left Masaya's office he was still dragged down by them so that even lifting his feet took effort. He chewed those thoughts up resolutely; shedding them gratefully to the only places he could whisper them: the walls and air around him, until he left with only a single realisation;

_Kaede… I was so incredibly lucky to meet you before I met your legend._

~tbc

Such a lot of dialogue… darn.

I recently thought that the song "Map of the Problematique" by Muse is definitely Akira's theme tune for this fic ^^

"Bitter Glass" by Feeder could (maybe) be Kaede's.

"Who wants to live forever" by Queen? Hahahaha, now wouldn't that just be depressing…? (Beautiful song though!)

The characters "Shinobu Koshino" "Masaya Aida" and "Hideo Fukuda" are the father's of the more familiar "Hikoichi Aida", "Hiroaki Koshino" and "Kicchou Fukuda". The father's names are actually taken from the names of the voice actors for those characters in the anime series.

Please leave a review if just to say "ah… Kitsune-kun~", "oh…. Kaede-kun~" or "wah…. _dissociative identity disorder~_".


	8. Chapter 8

_I want to reconcile the violence in your heart  
I want to recognise your beauty's not just a mask  
I want to exorcise the demons from your past  
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart._

(Muse: Undisclosed Desires)

**A Romeo and Juliet Story**

**Chapter 8**

The car parked in front of the Sendoh mansion was banana yellow, bright even in the darkening dusk. It was a beautiful machine of the type known as the _Veyron_. Its shape was stunningly curvaceous, with lusciously rounded panels, perfect streamlined form and narrow head-light eyes. A collector's piece only available to the astonishingly rich; the fastest and most expensive car ever built. Truly the elite of the elite.

There was no denying that it was an exquisite machine. Even its owner had stopped to stare at it in the fading light as he stepped out of the house with his brother, ready to embark upon what might turn out to be the most significant business deal of their lives.

It had been polished until the barest light made it sparkle like diamonds. Behind it, three accompanying drivers were sitting on motorbikes, waiting for the convoy to move out together. Taoka and most of the other individuals who would be on hand during the meeting had already left. Akira and Hanamichi were scheduled to arrive last, once most others had assembled, in order to make the grandest entrance possible. For this meeting, theatrics would be as important as business planning.

Akira exchanged a sideways glance with Hanamichi and grinned widely. Hanamichi mirrored him.

"I can't wait to see the look on Hisashi's face when he sees us in this" Hanamichi enthused.

_I can't wait to see the look on Kaede's… _Akira thought silently.

Hanamichi let out a loud bark of laughter just at the thought of their triumphant entry "God, I can't wait. Let's go!"

They ran down the sweeping entranceway steps as if their feet would never go fast enough.

Sliding into the driver's seat Akira touched the ignition before bringing his hand down to the red "start" button. The engine fired, at first with a couple of uncertain chokes but finally that renowned full, throaty roar and Akira couldn't help but suck his breath in a gasp. Pure power thundered around him, filling him until he felt as if a hundred Hisashis could never sway his confidence.

He wasted no time in putting his foot to the floor and immediately felt the acceleration push him backwards into his seat with considerable force. Hanamichi whooped with joy beside him.

"If you don't lose those three fools behind us you're no brother of mine!" he laughed excitedly.

Akira's eyes glanced up to the rear view mirror which showed three motorbikes quickly losing ground. He found himself echoing Hanamichi's laughter as the trees that lined the road became nothing but green smudges in their speed.

It was a twenty minute drive to the location, although Hanamichi and Akira arrived in fifteen.

The building that rose in the centre of the plot they approached was the location for the night's meeting. It was a brick structure, more European than Japanese, built in the 1900s when the Western Victorian style had been fashionable. It had been lucky enough to survive intact through the war years and was now used as a local community hall. Only the headlights of the many vehicles already surrounding it separated it from the night time, bright circles of light spotted on its lower walls, casting the upper floor into deep shadow.

The Rukawas were clumped together on one side of the compound, motors revving aggressively in intimidation at the Sendohs who were opposite them with blaring engines of their own. Twenty or thirty vehicles stood on each side so that the combined noise was simply deafening. A space of dead land had opened up between the two sides into which no one seemed prepared to step but across which dark looks were being exchanged between the age-long enemies. The volatile environment seemed primed for an outburst.

Despite the oppressive and dangerous tension, Akira and Hanamichi could smile as the Veyron lifted over the kerb and into the car park, drifting purposefully into that open central void with headlights full beam, the beautiful sound of the engine rising above the rest of the humdrum. Without exception, every pair of eyes turned to them and the noise of revving motors temporarily quietened. It was obvious that the car which had just entered exceeded everything else in the lot by a considerable margin.

The front licence plate caught a headlight and flashing bright white for a moment as the machine rose over the ramp of the pavement. As it levelled out the glare faded and the bold black lettering was revealed. It read simply this: _AK1RA_.

As the car moved smoothly over the tarmac Akira scanned the Rukawa crowd with interest. He saw Hisashi push his way to the front to get a good look at the machine as it passed by. The bustle of Rukawas parted respectfully to let him through. The Rukawa heir was dressed in an expensive tailored suit and was dragging a similarly dressed and familiar-looking boy by the hand behind him. But where was Kaede? Akira looked right and left amongst the awed eyes but didn't see him. He felt a flicker of disappointment.

He turned his concentration back to easing the car towards the Sendoh's side. He and Hanamichi would greet their allies there before moving the valuable car into the safety of the secure underground car park ahead of the meeting.

Akira feverishly hoped that Kaede was watching this; his moment of pride and the looks of awe he was drawing from friend and enemy alike. Surely if he were watching he would be standing stock still, his lips slightly parted, the hairs raised on the back of his graceful neck. Akira could imagine him perfectly.

He let his eyes drift back over to where Hisashi was standing, looking at the car with a scowl across his handsome features.

"Who's that boy with Hisashi?" he asked suddenly.

"Kogure Kiminobu" Hanamichi replied, without bothering to look up to check.

"His lover?"

"Yeah."

S_omeone to be wary of?_

With a soft hum of comprehension Akira brought the car to a stop where both brothers extracted themselves from the seatbelts and stepped out, leaving the engine still rumbling. Yohei was immediately beside Hanamichi beaming.

"You pulled that off real good," he said with a cheeky smile. "Even I thought you looked a little bit cool."

Hanamichi threw back his head and laughed while Akira squinted across the distance to look again at Hisashi and Kogure. He noticed the way Hisashi's arm draped across Kogure's shoulders easily as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and for an odd moment it made him slightly envious. He wondered whether he'd ever be able to do that so openly with Kaede, if some kind of miracle ever let them be together.

The thought caused him to suddenly see the crowd around him in a different light. No longer as two rivalling sides but as a single plague that opposed all that was peaceful. Every single one of the individuals gathered would probably resist any kind of Sendoh-Rukawa alliance just on senseless principle. Because they had all grown up knowing that Sendoh and Rukawa were enemies – they were sure of it to the point of blindness. It was as if they all stood between Kaede and Akira, keeping them so unfairly apart.

Akira suddenly felt insuppressibly alone. How on earth was this tide of hate possibly to be fought? Was he the only one present who could see the senselessness of it all?

_Kaede, _he called silently_ are you even here?_

"Oh, check this out" Hanamichi voiced sounded nearby with sudden excitement and Akira turned his attention back across the compound.

Hisashi was striding alone across the no-man's land of the parking lot, approaching his enemy's side, seemingly with the intention of confronting them. The chatter which had only just started up again entered a second bated hush as everyone looked in curiosity towards the impending confrontation. Akira was forced to admire Hisashi's bravery. Walking alone into the midst of enemies in this tense and unstable environment must have required incredible nerve.

About halfway across the tarmac Hisashi clicked his fingers as if calling a waiter or summoning a genie, not faulting in his stride,

"Kaede!" he barked.

Akira's breath constricted unpleasantly in his throat. He had hoped to avoid having to meet Kaede publicly; to avoid the necessity of putting on the farce of pretending to be enemies.

Behind Hisashi a ripple moved through the crowd of Rukawas as they twittered and shifted and finally parted, jostling each other in the eagerness to retreat, moving backwards out of the way of the dangerous young man who stalked slowly out from between them. They moved hurriedly away from him as if not wanting to get too close, and looked at him with a mixture of fear and respect as if he were a stranger, an unknown. Oh yes it was clear that they feared him and now Akira knew why. Their _kitsune_ – their assassin, their killer, their very own god of death.

The wind caught his long black coat causing it to billow out like black wings unfurling so that stepping out into the empty space of the compound he seemed a vision, a nightmare. The clothes he wore were almost like a uniform, every piece black and intimidating as if to say 'I am dangerous'. He was utterly different from everyone else around him; pale and distant and dark. Seeing him look so unfamiliar caused an unpleasant twist in Akira's stomach. It was two weeks since he'd seen him last, since the day he'd learnt about the _kitsune_. So many questions and so many uncertainties plagued him now.

Kaede didn't appear to move quickly, each step was fluid and graceful yet somehow he managed to catch up with Hisashi and fell silently into step behind him. Akira was struck once again by the physical similarities between the two Rukawa brothers. They were both of a similar height with black unruly hair and those famous blue Rukawa eyes. They looked like family, in such contrast to Akira and Hanamichi's incompatible appearances; black hair and red, brown eyes and blue.

Akira clenched a fist silently. He had to act as if Kaede was his enemy. If there was an opportunity to attack him, slander him or insult him, he had to take it. Kaede would be relying on him to perform his part in this encounter, and he in turn needed to be prepared to receive the same offensive treatment back. He needed to trust him even now, even though he seemed so different, even though everything he'd thought he'd known had been so cripplingly shaken by Masaya's revelations. He'd put his life into Kaede's hands before, but it had been nothing like this. The Kaede with whom Akira had played that trust-game in Odawa just didn't compare to this. Wasn't even on the same page. He steeled himself but couldn't suppress a strange liquid weakness inside him.

Beside him Hanamichi cracked his knuckles. "Your little truce won't stop me punching him in the face this time" he warned. Akira made no response but took a deep breath and fixed his face into a smile of confidence and they both moved forward to meet their two welcomers.

"_**Peace**_**? I hate the word."**

"Hello, Hanamichi" Hisashi sneered immediately once the distance between them had been fully traversed "I'm surprised you bothered to show up."

"I'm surprised _you_ bothered to show up" Hanamichi countered rather lamely before turning his eyes on Kaede at Hisashi's right. "Oh, didn't anyone tell you that murderers must be kept on a leash?"

Immediately aware of the implication of Hanamichi's taunt, realising that Akira must know something too, Kaede narrowed his eyes slightly and stared Hanamichi down with characteristic silence.

It was Hisashi who responded with a brash laugh, "Shut up Hanamichi; don't pretend you know what you're talking about."

Hanamichi clenched his fists "perhaps _you_ should shut up, we _do_ know. _Everything._" Akira had already shared with him all the information he'd heard from Masaya.

"Oh yeah?" Hisashi grinned, "Lemme guess – boy kills mother, daughter, sentenced, released, right? Everyone knows that shit. I bet no one told you who the client was though, right? Thought not. You're just a couple of morons shooting your mouths off about my family's shit which you don't understand."

He laughed as if amused by some secret thought of his own, and Akira realised that he was already coming to dislike this arrogant man.

"Hisashi…" Kaede's voice was a low brace, a quiet reminder not to pursue the topic further.

"Shut the fuck up, Kaede" Hisashi hissed in annoyance.

Hanamichi seemed about to make another comment but paused when he noticed an unfamiliar person jogging towards their small group from the direction of the main building. It was a boy about their age, of average height and with curiously narrow eyes. Hisashi followed Hanamichi's gaze and swore in irritation when he recognised the approaching figure. The boy came quickly up to them, panting with the effort of running. He seemed so distracted by whatever message he was remembering that he didn't even recognise the two Sendohs standing there.

"Rukawa-sama…" he gasped, giving Hisashi a low bow from the waist "…Kaede-sama…" a second, slightly briefer bow to the other boy "…Rukawa-sama requests your presence in the blue room."

Hisashi stared at him in disbelief.

"Can't you see we're fucking _busy_?"

The boy blinked, noticed Akira and Hanamichi for the first time and suddenly appeared to shrink in size. His eyes went wide.

"Yasuda, _fuck off_" said Hisashi.

The boy took two almost comical steps backwards, his eyes moving between the angry Hisashi and the stony faced Kaede and then made a few more frantic bows. "Yes, Rukawa-sama, Kaede-sama, I'm so sorry to disturb you…" He turned and all but fled back the way he had come.

Akira held his breath. He wanted nothing but that he and Kaede should be able to escape this dangerous charade successfully. He sincerely hoped the message meant that the two Rukawas would have to leave and this confrontation would be brought to a close more quickly than he could have dared hope. Kaede seemed to have the same idea because he half turned and looked back at Hisashi as if hoping he would move to leave.

Hisashi's eyes fixed on Akira who returned his stare with an apparent easy confidence, ready to deflect any verbal attack. Indeed Hisashi looked like he was about to make a final comment, but then thought better of it and turned towards Kaede.

_Now leave,_ Akira willed him silently, holding his breath, gratefully watching Hisashi turn away…

"I wonder why anyone still bothers to add _sama_ to your name..?" Hanamichi piped up suddenly.

Kaede froze mid-step. Hisashi let out a snort of amusement directed at his younger brother.

"Why indeed?" The older Rukawa smirked, looking towards Kaede to see his reaction to the insult.

Kaede pivoted slowly back around, his cold eyes seeking Hanamichi's, ignoring his brother entirely. With the swirl of his dark coat about him he suddenly seemed ominously taller even though he was in fact the shortest of the four by an inch or two.

"Do you really not know why?" he asked slowly.

Hanamichi didn't back down, meeting Kaede's fiercest gaze with one of his own and drawing himself to his full height.

"Let me explain…" Kaede said coldly.

At once his eyes snapped to Akira and that was the only warning Akira had that the attack was going to come to him. He had no time to react. The knife moved so fast he didn't even see it. One moment Kaede was grasping a handle that protruded from his boot and the next an eight inch steel blade was held outstretched on his right side. Only the motion of Kaede's coat as it spiralled to fall on his left indicated the sweeping arc it had made, and only the single pin prick of blood blossoming at the tip of Akira's throat indicated the dangerous path it had taken.

Akira's hand went up to his neck in surprise and Kaede was deadly still, slightly crouched in readiness to strike again. Around them the world had stopped. Akira thought he might have stopped breathing.

"They call me _sama _because no one dares to test what would happen if they didn't." Kaede said with dangerous quietness.

Such a fast and wide swing judged so accurately as to only slightly scratch the skin was truly fearsome skill. Every tense muscle in Kaede's taut, athletic body reminded Akira of a tiger waiting to pounce. This boy had been brought up with the single purpose of fighting, killing, slaughtering, and it showed.

The next second Hanamichi's gun was butted against Kaede's temple.

"How dare you, you arrogant bastard" he hissed enraged, "I'll fucking kill you."

Suddenly all around the area Rukawas and Sendohs alike were reaching for guns in preparation for an outburst of the violence.

Kaede gripped his knife tighter and became locked together in a dangerous staring match with the furious Hanamichi. With the gun at his head it seemed a hopelessly one-sided situation from which Kaede would be forced to back down. The seconds ticked uncomfortably past as the two younger brothers stood motionless in their stale-mate.

With inhuman speed Kaede suddenly moved. All in one moment he dropped to a crouch and thrust the knife upwards to skewer the gun through the trigger hole, missing Hanamichi's index finger by mere millimetres. With a twist the gun was sent spinning out of Hanamichi's hand and across the concrete floor. The tip of the knife then brushed Hanamichi's throat and Kaede was silent in restrained victory.

Hisashi seemed to find the whole situation incredibly funny. "It's not wise to bite a lion, Hanamichi" he cautioned, sniggering, "even a pet one."

Hanamichi made a sound like a growl but said nothing.

_Today is the first time I've really met the one they call kitsune, _Akira realised.

_Now I know why they fear him_.

With a painful slowness Kaede drew back and slid the knife back into its place in his boot with practised precision, not breaking his eye contact with Hanamichi. His point had undoubtedly been made.

"Well," Hisashi gave a shrug; "it seems the show is over." He gave a derisive laugh and looked at Akira, "guess I'll see ya round, _Sendoh-sama._" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he gave a dismissive wave of his hand and turned on his heel to stalk away, leaving Kaede behind.

Hanamichi and Kaede remained staring at each other with obvious enmity.

"Keep out of my way" Kaede said finally in a low, warning voice, his blue eyes alight with a dark, unfamiliar fire.

"I'm not scared of a good-for-nothing fox like you," Hanamichi spat right back.

Kaede watched him for a moment longer before turning silently to follow his brother.

Akira watched his back as he walked away, coat catching the wind and ribboning out behind him revealing the tight line of his waist and the shape of the holster around his hips which held his two well-known guns. A cold shiver passed through him.

He felt like he didn't know anything anymore.

"I think you're still sympathetic towards him." Hanamichi accused him angrily later as they moved the car underground. The comment earned him a slightly guilty glance, at which Hanamichi sighed in frustration.

"You must be mad; he nearly took your bloody throat out, not to mention mine. He's fucked up, Akira. That whole fucking family is just one fucking nightmare."

At the sound of Akira's silence, Hanamichi tsked but made no more comments while his silent brother drove the car through the cramped space of the underground parking and eased it into a space which it overlapped by a considerable margin.

"And I just don't get it" Hanamichi began again in agitation "it makes no fucking sense. He's supposed to have been disinherited, right? But no matter how you look at it he must be their most useful ally. How can he be outcast and valued at the same time?"

_He's not valued,_ Akira thought silently. _He's just… used. Like a tool._

"And seriously… doesn't he have any _pride_? How can he allow his own brother to trample on him like that? You heard him, right? _Shut the fuck up, Kaede_. Calling him a _pet _and all that shit. And then he said nothing! Didn't do anything! I'd have hit you if you ever pulled that shit on me, you know? It's like he's… dead or something. A fucking zombie."

"He asleep," Akira suddenly realised aloud.

Hanamichi looked towards him in question but Akira didn't notice him, gazing blankly forwards in a sudden blur of understanding.

_He's buried himself way down, where no one can reach him._

_He's locked up his pride. Locked up his soul. Locked up his sanity._

_Time has stopped for him._

"You," Hanamichi accused in annoyance when it became obvious that Akira had no intention of explaining his comment, "I don't know what the hell you're thinking. You'd be insane to believe anything he says. He's an _assassin_ for god's sakes. The _last_ person you can trust."

_Me…?_

Akira ran his hands through his hair as he gazed through the windscreen at the sorry, grey concrete.

_I'm going to wake him up._

_I'm going to make time start for Kaede Rukawa once again._

**The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,**

**Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.**

The actual meeting dragged painfully for Akira over the first hour. Initially he'd had a great interest in the members of the Rukawa family, never having encountered Anzai and Hisashi at such close range before. Anzai was no doubt formidable. He was softly spoken and quiet for most of the time, but the calmness and authority that pervaded from him was absolutely undeniable. He could control the bantering of his two supporting delegates with just a look. Even Akira would admit that he was a man who inspired a great deal of respect.

Sitting next to Hisashi the Rukawa's second delegate was a young woman named Ayako. She was capable and focused and seemed to be successfully holding Hisashi's reins, prompting him and guiding him through the negotiations with her brief interjections. She spoke briefly and concisely, generally to assist points that Hisashi was making, or to assist him in the formulation of replies. She didn't seem in the least intimidated by the presence of the Sendoh family nor of her own house.

Akira himself had no need to speak during the meeting. As his family's most capable negotiator his father was unwilling to allow him more input than strictly necessary while in front of the rival family. Thus he was being held in reserve just in case a scenario arose where he was needed. So far everything had been going well and so by feigning a feeling of faintness Akira had managed to excuse himself from the room. He could hear Hanamichi launching into an eloquent attack of the Rukawa management of Tsuzuki as the door closed behind him.

Now he was wandering the hallways absentmindedly. He had no desire to bump into any Rukawas, and was convinced that meeting Kaede again would be a risk too far, so he only sought a pleasing place to sit and relax, away from the busy areas of the building. He roamed through it carelessly.

He eventually came to a promising double door; thick honey-coloured wood in a beautiful arch reminiscent of the building's external grandeur. An unobtrusive sign on the wall indicated that it was "_the old library"_. The door was closed and Akira could detect no sound from within. He thought for a moment that it might be locked, but the round knob turned readily in his hand and the door moved surprisingly smoothly for all its apparent weight. He stepped curiously inside hoping that it would provide a quiet place for him to relax.

Soft light came from a single lit lamp in the otherwise dark room, giving the impression of a quiet sanctuary or a softly lit bedroom. The room had been preserved as a library; numerous books of uncategorised titles lined the walls in impressively large bookcases. There was a certain stately style about the place; there were a few soft chairs and desks all with an antiquated appearance, and beautiful European oil paintings placed thoughtfully on the walls that were not dominated by books.

But for the moment Akira failed to notice these things because his gaze was drawn to a boy sitting on one end of an elongated settee. He was in no doubt that the boy was well aware of his entrance, and he had to marvel at the slow and deliberate grace with which he raised his head to meet Akira's gaze. He was unhurried in his movements and not in the least concerned about any possible threat. He was twisted in his chair slightly, just enough to bring increased comfort to a second boy whose sleeping head was resting on his lap as he dozed, laid out contentedly across the seats.

Cursing his bad luck at running into Rukawas again Akira stood completely still, staring back into the brown eyes with surprise. Part of him told him to back out of the room but a significantly larger part of him was bristling with outrage. He could only stare, momentarily uncomprehending, perhaps even disbelieving. The boy before him was by now familiar, last seen only just outside but known even before that at the spinning masquerade ball. It was the boy Akira had once mistaken for the second Rukawa son; Kogure Kiminobu.

Kogure displayed no trace of alarm or concern despite being engaged in what seemed to be a tender moment shared with the second boy still asleep on his lap. Kogure's fingers were weaved into the midnight hair, stroking and soothing with such gentle affection that even Akira's sudden rage of offence could not entirely denounce the beauty of the scene. But he stopped and stared because they looked so much like lovers, and because the jealousy that overtook him was such a startlingly unfamiliar emotion that he was paralyzed with it.

The brown eyes looked expectantly into his as if assuming he was there to deliver a message. In fact Akira was so convinced that the boy had mistaken him for a servant or lay boy that he actually opened his mouth to refute it when he was pre-empted –

"You must be Sendoh Akira."

The words were uttered without any trace of hostility, apprehension or combination of both that he would have expected from a lower member of the Rukawa house. In fact they were said with a marvellous neutrality, not as an accusation but merely a statement of fact, as if one being a Sendoh and one being a Rukawa were a complete irrelevancy. It was surprisingly refreshing such that Akira could almost forgive the small motion of fingers in Kaede's hair. Almost.

When he gave a short confirmatory nod the other only smiled.

Despite his apparent friendliness, Akira couldn't help the deep dislike that was settling over him. No matter how he looked at it, this boy seemed like some kind of rival.

"Kaede…" Kogure spoke softly to the sleeping boy on his lap, ruffling the hair gently to rouse him. Akira was struck by the contrast between this peaceful, unguarded Kaede and the dangerous boy he'd encountered earlier. His long, dark coat had been removed and draped over the back of the small settee, leaving him in only a close fitting shirt that revealed his thin arms up to the shoulders and clung aesthetically to the slender shape of his body. He seemed so much frailer, more delicate, almost breakable.

With a soft sigh the blue eyes slid open and looked blurredly up into the brown ones looking down on him.

"Sempai?"

Akira felt an irrationally powerful sense of relief to hear Kogure addressed with such a formal word.

"Someone's here" Kogure said gently.

Kaede turned his eyes lazily towards the doorway, but upon recognising Akira he sat upright in surprise.

"Akira?" he breathed in confusion.

Akira didn't know what to say. He hadn't had any intention of meeting Kaede here, but before he could even open his mouth Kaede had turned back to look at Kogure who was watching him carefully.

"Sempai… you…" he stammered, stunned.

And that's when Akira realised with a numb kind of horror that they'd just been found out.

"Don't underestimate me Kaede," Kogure reprimanded his younger friend, "You think I can't see? That I wouldn't notice?" His brown eyes were narrow, "I know you better than you know yourself."

Kaede said nothing but continued to stare and Kogure stood up gracefully from the settee. He turned towards Akira who was still standing in the doorway and fully expecting him to launch into accusations; however the boy merely bowed respectfully.

"Please excuse me, Sendoh-san" he said with perfect politeness, and then skirted silently around Akira and left by the door behind him, closing it as he went.

In a great deal of confusion, Akira looked towards Kaede in the hope of some explanation for the bizarre scene that had just played out before his eyes.

"Shouldn't you stop him?" he asked in concern.

Kaede didn't immediately respond but rose from the settee and paced towards a nearby bookcase.

"I don't have any right to stop him" he said after a moment.

"But isn't he Hisashi's lover? Won't he tell Hisashi about us?" Akira pressed in confusion.

"No, he won't" Kaede replied shortly, without elaboration.

"But then… why… what….?" He stopped and shook himself. He had to consciously hold himself apart from the adrenaline that was poisoning his system, causing him to stutter so foolishly in an unnecessary fluster. He could see that Kaede was displeased but not unduly concerned about what had just happened, so there shouldn't be any need for him to panic.

"Then…" he managed to ask with curiosity, recalling the image of the two boys so serene together "…what is he to you?"

Akira didn't see the momentary puzzlement on Kaede's face. No one had ever thought to ask such a question before. He'd never even asked himself.

_Kogure is an untainted vessel which we both seek to corrupt by pouring our blackness into him. We both know we are selfish, utterly, to sacrifice such beauty to save our own twisted souls and yet he cannot hate us. He isn't capable of such a thing. He would love us even as we destroy him. Eat him up like acid. He is everything. It is through him that we trade our darkness for light._

_He is all that binds me to my house_ … _and to this prison of a world._

He looked back at Akira.

"Innocence" he said quietly. "He is innocence."

Akira waited, hoping Kaede would continue, pleasantly surprised to hear something that resembled sentiment from him. When the boy remained silent he sighed softly. He had a thousand questions to ask, but had no idea where to start or how to broach such thorny subjects.

He was wondering how to begin when Kaede spoke first;

"I'm sorry" he said.

Akira blinked in confusion, "for what?"

"Your neck."

Akira touched the small scratch on his throat impulsively; "no" he said "it's nothing."

After an uncomfortable moment; "You… know about me."

The phrase sounded so strained that Akira frowned as Kaede raised his eyes to meet his. Was that accusation in his expression? Defensiveness? Apprehension?

"I've heard a little about the one they call _kitsune_" Akira admitted carefully, watching for Kaede's reaction.

There was a minute motion of tensing fists and his head twisted just enough to distract attention away from the small tremor that ran through his body. Even as Akira noticed it he still had to admit that it was masterfully disguised.

Now, looking into his face, Akira was quite sure that he could see anxiety amongst the otherwise carefully arranged detachment. It was the look of one who was about to throw something precious away. Akira took a breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth.

"Would you…" he began softly, looking over Kaede's folded arms wrapped unhappily around himself as if to keep at bay the questions he knew must come. The answers that must be torn from him. All at once Akira knew that the last thing he wanted was to force Kaede to relive his past. Whatever the _kitsune_ was or had done seemed suddenly minor. He didn't want or need to know anything more.

All he really wanted was Kaede; to have him awake here, in the present moment, with him, next to him. Just to make him realise that Akira wasn't going to run away from this. Wasn't going to abandon him to his own gnawing loneliness. Wanting, even just for a short moment, to distract him from the darkness that was rotting him from the inside.

**To have thee still stand there,**

**Remembering how I love thy company.**

In a flash of inspiration his face broke into a mischievous smile "… would you like to go for a drive?"

Kaede was genuinely taken aback, and lifted his eyes to meet Akira's in query. "The Veyron?" he asked, suddenly seeming almost childlike in simplicity.

Akira, sensing victory, clasped his hands behind his head and pouted up at the ceiling in feigned ignorance. "Oh, is that what it's called?"

Kaede glared at him and he grinned.

"Well then?"

The younger boy hesitated and Akira held out a hand towards him in encouragement.

"The meeting is still continuing. They won't be out for hours. No one will miss us."

It took a moment longer before Kaede finally gave an almost imperceptible nod and moved towards the settee to pick up his coat.

Akira caught him in the doorway, blocking the way out with his body and laying a hand over the one with which Kaede was grasping the jacket draped over one arm. The smaller boy froze at the contact and looked up into Akira's face in query, a little startled by how close the soft blue eyes suddenly were to his. His heartbeat sped up irrationally. He wondered whether Akira would try to kiss him again and how he ought to react if he did.

"Don't bring that" Akira said.

_Huh_?

Akira's eyes moved down to the jacket Kaede had over his arm and Kaede followed his gaze to stare blankly at the dark material.

"It doesn't suit you."

Kaede hesitated a moment but then let the assassin's coat fall silently to the floor feeling oddly light as he did so.

_It doesn't mean anything_, he told himself sternly.

"Let's go" Akira said with a contented smile and set off into the corridor in the direction of the underground car park. Kaede checked that his two guns were secure around his waist and then followed him. He was aware, perhaps, that Akira would demand something from him but, to his own surprise aware that he was no longer so very reluctant to give in to it.

**~tbc**

References are made to Kanto Medical Juvenile Training School in Fuchu, Western Tokyo. It is a real detainment centre for Japan's young offenders.

Sorry this took so long – I suck.

DILEMA! 

My original draft for chapter 9 contains a lime scene. I eventually rewrote it because I didn't want to raise the rating of this fic to "M". However when I reread the two drafts I was like – "crap it's so much better that way *trauma*".

I'd appreciate your feedback as to whether I should keep the censored T version, or throw caution to the wind and wind it up to M. Thanks much x.

Please leave a review if only to say "when are you gonna run out of ideas for this please-leave-a-review section?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning** – this chapter contains a sex scene! Since it is short, occurs for reasons of characterisation and isn't very graphic (in my opinion), the rating will remain T. If you think this is wrong please just let me know and I'll reconsider the rating, although I think this warning should be sufficient.

P.S. ffnet has utterly fouled up the formatting. What's the point of all this messing up our paragraphing, huh? HUH? Not only is it a stifle of creativity (how dare you tell me what my paragraphs should look like!) but it's just plain RUDE. Goddamnit!

**A Romeo and Juliet Story**

**Chapter 9**

_Cold like ice, hoops of imprisonment around tiny wrists, as if he were really capable of fighting them off. He was still so small compared to the adults around him. Nothing more than a sharp-fanged little mouse. Six broken ribs and a fractured arm and they still felt it necessary to use handcuffs. How was it that they should be afraid of something as pathetic as he?_

_So the police had come back for him finally, six days after he'd been confined at the hospital. Beaten, they said, to within an inch of death. He himself… didn't really remember. No one had come to visit him in that time. Perhaps they hadn't been allowed._

_Isolated and confused he stared up at of the single window set high on the wall which already made his hospital room seem more like a prison cell. What was he expected to do now? He'd never been told what to do in such a situation as this…_

…

Kaede closed his eyes to the sight of the stars looking down through the windscreen of the car. He felt himself falling into a listless doze, made more pleasant by the unfamiliar warmth pressing him down, keeping him so willingly imprisoned. There was an ache in his neck where his head leant against the window and an unpleasant hardness digging awkwardly into his leg. It was uncomfortable but he didn't move. He didn't want to move. Not even an inch.

_Crack_. The sound of a distant gunshot lit his mind like a flash of lightning and the world was flooded with a future.

…

_Four men came to him some days later. He wasn't too sure when since the passing of time was difficult to keep track of now this new room didn't have a window. _

"_You'll plead guilty and claim that you acted independently" his father informed him and showed him a piece of paper upon which a statement had already been drafted. "You have thirty minutes to memorise this." _

…

Thirty minutes ago he'd run his hands across the rumbling dashboard, tested the knobs and buttons on the sophisticated music centre on the main panel and felt the luxurious fabric of the passenger's seat beneath him. Lastly his fingers had hooked the clasp of the glove compartment and opened it in curiosity. He'd held back an exclamation of surprise as an empty crisp package and a deluge of empty candy wrappers had fallen into his lap.

"Crap…" it was the first time Kaede had ever heard Akira curse as he attempted to shove the offending rubbish back inside the cubby hole with one hand still on the steering wheel and his eyes still on the road. "I'm sorry, my brother is a slob."

Amusement had prickled the corners of Kaede's lips and he'd turned away to hide it, even though Akira probably wouldn't have seen anyway.

He'd realised then that he was sitting in Hanamichi's place. That the world he'd seen only in a few photographs was his and all around him, suddenly entirely tangible. Almost edible. He'd wanted to touch everything he saw, just to know what it was like from this other side.

…

_The child didn't read the paper but peered through the bars of his cell at his father, at the greying Yoku Myagi accompanying him and at the two other men he didn't recognise._

"_This is Masaya Aida," Yoku introduced one of the two men in response to his curious stare "and this…" _

…

"…is beautiful, right?" Akira had taken a long breath through his mouth as if breathing the city in. They'd come to the top of a hill that overlooked the starry metropolis laid out below them like a map of possibilities. Looking down everything had seemed changed, so far away, so unimportant.

Akira had turned to him in seriousness and asked something odd. Kaede had been expecting any number of questions about his past, what he'd done, why he'd done it. But none of them came. Instead;

"Have you ever thought of the possibility of ending the rivalry?" Just like that. As if it were not only possible but easy.

Another day, another time, another Kaede and it would have been ridiculous. Hisashi would never give it up. The house was the rivalry and the rivalry was the house. But now, everything was weirdly different, as if he'd been taken out of himself. It felt so real, like he could reach out and touch his own soul, and Akira's eyes so close by offered so much but could promise nothing.

...

_Yoku eyed the other distastefully "…and this is Taoka Sendoh." _

_Kaede stared openly at the man who was responsible for this. The man who'd brought about this end, this wheezing pain in his bruised chest and an eight year old girl shot in the face. Perhaps he, the child, already realised that this already foul beginning would soon pollute and spread like a virus let loose in his blood - disinheritance, two years in prison and the rest as Hisashi's dog. And nothing to see beyond tomorrow but killing and killing and killing. No wonder then, as he stared Taoka down, that his eyes were already ancient and silent and cold like death._

_...  
_

He'd sat and listened to Akira's warm words patiently. Akira's world, Akira's mind, was so very unlike his. As good as glowing. His vision was of a future Kaede had never had the audacity to assume was even there. It had always seemed safer, somehow, to look only downwards, neither forwards nor back, but only at his own trudging feet. Better not to stare too hard at the blood red footsteps behind him, or the impenetrable darkness before.

But Akira saw the world in a brilliant technicolour of possibilities. An infinite rainbow of tomorrows. And as he gazed at Akira talking with such animated passion about something as insubstantial as the future he realised he felt.

He _felt_.

...

_Masaya was muttering away nearby, apparently to himself; "We'd guessed that the kitsune was a Rukawa… but I'd never dreamed…"_

"_This is a goddamn mess" Taoka hissed._

"_A mess of your making" Anzai pointed out genially._

"_You do realise that if he lets slip that the killings were an assassination you'll be brought down for making him do it and I'll be brought down for hiring him!"_

"_He will do as he's told."_

_...  
_

Naivety.

Optimism.

An utter failure to see the dark crawling festerings of the world. A way of looking that eventually left you bleeding and alone among fear and pain. Kaede all along had thought that this was a sign of weakness. That this was Sendoh Akira's weakness. But now, high above Yokohama, his comprehension of such things was becoming irrevocably skewed.

This close and still not a single inch of Akira smelt of vulnerability. It was a strength that defeated him – he; a broken twisted child of violence - utterly. Defeated. By this. Even as he found himself pushed against the window with gentle but insistent force, hands in his hair, heat wet and luring at his lips and at his throat, he knew it. And it suddenly seemed so obvious.

Strength that didn't hurt or destroy. Something sure and certain in everything he did. Every smile, every word, every inch of understanding was gilded with such confidence. Such power. And then he realised that it was precisely _because_ he'd never seen what Kaede had seen. _Because_ he'd never done what Kaede had done. That is was his naivety, his bare-faced optimism that made him strong and whole while Kaede crumbled and broke beneath his hot fingers.

Kaede was overtaken by a never-before-known desire to protect it, that innocence, to see it flourish. To keep him away, far away from violence, from pain, from the splutter of blood that stained skin and blinded eyes. Not to allow even a spot of dirt to sully those firm and gentle hands.

But to be a… protector? One such as he? How ostentatious to even think of such a thing. To even dream that these hands could do anything but destroy. How foolish.

In the end it didn't matter what he wanted. He soon found there was nothing, nothing he could do. The crippling temptation to just give up, to be overcome, paralysed him. He could only sigh, an insubstantial spirit lost in the night as he felt himself stolen away. Murmuring, not even his whole name but only the first trembling syllable of it. This man. This flawless man.

"A… a… a…."

…_Akira_.

**I know not how to tell thee who I am**

_He could kill me._

The thought kept rising in his mind, refusing to stay submerged.

_He could kill me._

It made him angry, the two feeble hands against his chest in a half-hearted effort to push him away; this wasn't Kaede at all.

_He could kill me_. _It would probably be nothing for him to kill me right now._

"This…" he grabbed the thin wrists that pressed against him and slammed them on either side of Kaede's head, bruising his own knuckles against the window in the process, "…why are you hiding?"

Kaede's lowered eyes didn't lift. A kitsune ripped out by its throat left this vehement blazing ruin. A scarred and blackened soul which nonetheless burned, burned, burned like it could set the world on fire. His eyes were lowered only to hide the fact that he could never be defeated. A pretence of surrender. It was as if he were asking; why am I cursed to be able to keep walking when every step is agony?

"Kaede…" the name tasted like knives on his tongue as he saw him, understood him, for the very first time "…don't you see? I know what you are."

It wasn't a criticism but a revelation. Kaede was trembling, his whole body wavering, even his wrists that Akira was still gripping so hard that his knuckles were white.

"I can release you from this. I want you to be weak…only with me. I want you to be…"

...

"…_mine?" Taoka squinted at Masaya as they left together._

"_Anzai is acting out of necessity to protect himself, but the fact remains that he'll lose a son over this."_

_His seriousness caused Taoka to pause in his stride._

"_An eye for an eye?"_

"…_precisely."_

_...  
_

"Let me…" he leaned forwards until their noses were pressed together and Kaede's fierce gaze could avoid his no longer. Unafraid, he wet the boy's lips with an easy open-mouthed kiss, feeling the shape of them tenderly until they parted for him. Then he pulled back and smiled at what he'd never thought he'd see.

Kaede's face was full of furious indignity at being pressed so helplessly up against the window, hands pinned there and strands of midnight hair sticking to the collecting condensation. And yet amongst his anger was something which nevertheless invited Akira to continue. Perhaps even demanded him to do so. Such a perfect contradiction that he couldn't help grinning foolishly.

Akira released one of the wrists and brought his hand instead to that elegant white neck. He ran his thumb over the smooth throat in enticing circles, feeling the frantic pulse beneath his fingers. In curiosity he applied some experimental pressure.

Kaede moaned so richly that Akira's entire body pulsed with the sound. He couldn't resist but to push forward and claim that mouth again with a more rough and desperate fervour. Kaede made use of his free hand to clench his fist hungrily in Akira's hair, arching his back to bring their bodies into a more flush contact.

..

"_You think he'll go after Akira?"_

"_Well…"_

_...  
_

They parted, gasping.

Akira just couldn't stop running his hands over him; rustling up the thin black shirt and pressing sweat-sticky fingers against every inch of athletic body, strong but sleek without bulk. Kaede watched him move in curious suspicion.

He put his tongue against the oscillating chest and tasted salt, then he brought his hands down to grasp at the waistband, seeking blindly for the button and fly. At once two concerned hands gripped his forearms in nervous caution.

"Don't worry…" Akira remembered himself enough to pause and gave a reassuring smile "…just let me give you this."

Just for a moment to take him to that cool sanctuary of the mind, letting eyes flicker closed and tides carry consciousness away. To close down the higher echelons of the brain and accept a simpler world.

Here, now, let him, please god just let him _forget_.

"You don't have to do anything" he persuaded sweetly, "a gift, that's all."

Meeting the two confused eyes looking down at him, seeing that they were anything but dark, he knew that in itself was nearly enough.

"Trust me."

Just a moment longer, hesitation reluctant to be exorcised, but finally two thawing eyes closed and a tired head leant back against the window as if not wishing to see what was about to happen. Akira tweaked the button open and parted the two flaps of fabric, the firm stomach trembling under his fingertips.

**Then love-devouring death do what he dare -**

**It is enough I may but call him mine.**

Fingers curled down, around, careful and supple around the smooth heat, finger by finger taking it into a comfortable fist. Kaede hissed and Akira smiled. The air of the car laboured, laden with a lulling sexual smell, real and masculine that Akira could feel settling pleasantly over him like a warm mist. Hungry and dreamy he took a flicking-tongue taste which slid past him and through him and into him and made him hum deep in his throat in both protest and adoration. The ragged, gasping, don't-stop-now breathing above him became his entire focus as he rocked back and forth.

The medley of gasps and moans changed pitch when Akira's other hand moved down and under the trembling body.

Kaede felt a single probing finger enter him, piercing him unkindly, almost coldly. His eyes opened in panic.

Complete humiliation.

He was at once deluged with bitter, burning shame that lit up his cheeks and froze his breathing. Such crippling defencelessness and everything he'd thought his own laid out to view. It was as if not a single dark secret could remain, as if there was not a shred of himself that Akira couldn't touch. His pride, so fierce and conceited, was distorted and hurt and subjected to such indignity that he wriggled to escape in horror. _No… no… _he gasped silently, knowing he couldn't possibly let this happen. A firm hand held him down.

Resentful with shame he realised that for once there was nowhere, nowhere in his mind or without where he could hide. He could no longer avert his eyes or withdraw his consciousness to protect himself. It was as if Akira had dragged Kaede's secretive soul out and pinned it down only to laugh and disgrace him beyond measure.

But the overriding ignominy of the whole thing was how fiercely he wanted it. How terrible and wonderful it felt to give himself up to this. To feel so out of control, so pathetic, so defeated under these hands. Under this man.

Akira gave a long, low hum from the back of his throat as if in sympathy and drew the degrading finger languidly out.

The sensation and embarrassment was too much and with a quick panicked gasp, his mind recoiling with gorgeous horror, Kaede's disgrace spilled over.

...

"_Well… perhaps not Akira, but…"_

_...  
_

Kaede closed his eyes to the sight of the stars looking down through the windscreen of the car. He felt himself falling into a listless doze, made more pleasant by the unfamiliar warmth pressing him down, keeping him so willingly imprisoned. There was an ache in his neck where his head leant against the window and an unpleasant hardness digging awkwardly into his leg. It was uncomfortable but he didn't move. He didn't want to move. Not even an inch.

_Crack_. The sound of a distant gunshot lit his mind like a flash of lightning and the world was flooded with a future. _Crack_. Two more followed in quick succession, waking him violently from his doze. But he didn't wake out of Akira's strangely warm world, not yet, but rather he woke from his other dream eight years long. Suddenly he understood the pain he'd felt. Suddenly an end seemed possible.

Before he'd recovered enough of his senses to move Akira had already leapt back from him and started the car. Kaede straightened himself dazedly while, with little more than a flashing glance behind him and a loud curse, Akira slammed the gear stick into reverse, sending the wheels skidding violently as the car hurtled backwards.

Kaede sat silently; staring at the vision of what could be which had glinted unfocussed yet so perfectly formed into his mind. All around the whirlwind of a world spun carelessly around his steady form.

His mind clear he carefully put all the tiny pieces into place like pawns in an imaginary chess game. Hisashi, Hanamichi, Akira, himself, he could see it all coming together so clearly as the future he could make flickered brighter and clearer with each sound of distant gun-thunder.

Just one more piece and the stage would be complete, but he couldn't help hesitating over it, rubbing his mind's fingers over the ivory surface in calm contemplation as the world skidded violently past his window.

The rest he knew he could achieve, but this would perhaps prove, at the final moment, to be too difficult. Yet he couldn't afford to hesitate, there would be one chance and one chance only. He sighed inwardly and looked out at the blurred passing world. There would be a price to pay; there always was.

"Let me out over there," he pointed to a corner some two blocks away from the hall. Akira brought the car over to the kerb in a stench of burning rubber and Kaede reached for the door handle.

"Akira…" he trailed off, knowing he'd never be able to find any words. That it would be impossible to explain this new window in his mind "…try and stay out of my sight."

Akira nodded wordlessly.

Kaede didn't hesitate longer but opened the car door and stepped out. Akira's sudden call of his name made him pause but not turn, not sure if he could bear to look at him now.

"When will I see you again?" the concern in Akira's voice forced it to Kaede's attention that Akira was not so entirely oblivious to what must soon come between them. To the path they would be forced to walk.

"The Miura beach" he replied without turning "look for me at the beach."

He couldn't bear to wait for a reply and so slammed the door behind him before he could lose all resolve and darted into the night like a shadow, vanishing from Akira's sight in moments. He sprinted towards where he knew Hisashi would be waiting, wind lashing his exposed skin, blowing away the final remnants of Akira's warmth and reminding him of the jacket he'd left crumpled on the library floor. Reminding him finally of just what he was.

**I live dead**.

Akira revved the car and took off in a squeal of tyres, knowing regretfully that he didn't have any time to spend worrying about Kaede. The sound of the nearby gun fight commanded the entirety of his attention.

He rounded the corner with his foot to the floor and scattered a small group of Rukawas who had been standing nearby. With a deft grip on the handbrake he sent the car drifting into the parking lot in a trail of heavy white smoke. A line of bullets immediately peppered the side of the car. The rear wheels fish-tailed behind him as he accelerated aggressively out of the turn, eyes flying left and right, looking for a glimpse of red hair. He finally spotted his brother over by the side of the building and quickly drew up beside him.

"Get in!" he shouted, leaning over to open the passenger door and Hanamichi immediately filled the space Kaede had so recently vacated.

Crumpling into the seat Hanamichi wiped a trickle of blood out of his eyes. "We won the contract" he explained conversationally.

"Great" Akira replied through gritted teeth, wheeling the car violently around and gunning it back towards the road. A bullet shattered the rear passenger window behind him. "Where's Dad and the rest?"

"Long gone. Only Yohei and the gang stayed back."

"Why didn't you leave too?"

"I didn't know where the fuck you were, moron!"

"Oh" Akira had the grace to feel guilty as they wove with dangerous speed through the midnight traffic. Police sirens sounded in the distance.

"Will Yohei be okay?"

"Of course, just go!"

Akira skidded through a red light onto the road that would take them home. They hurtled onwards at high speed for a short way until Hanamichi suddenly sat bolt upright, spotting something in the near distance. There were a number of motorcycles in the centre of the road, seemingly waiting for them.

"Fuck" Hanamichi said, peering intently forward, having to rely on the weak street lights to make out the figures.

"What?"

"It's Hisashi."

"Fuck."

"Some kind of ambush – they must have realised we'd take this road. You'd better try and mow them down before they can shoot."

Akira gritted his teeth and followed Hanamichi's advice by pressing the peddle down as far as it would go. The car immediately responded with an aggressive growl, within seconds the needle of the speedometer had danced up past 100… 150… 180… 200…

In response to the car's loud approach the gathered bikes scattered left and right to the sides of the road except for one of the number who remained alone and eerily still in the centre.

"Oh no…" Akira gaped under his breath. He felt suddenly as if he daren't even blink, he was utterly incapable of looking away from the fast approaching disaster.

Hanamichi lent out the window and fired several wild shots forward but hit nothing but air.

In response to the gunfire, the lone boy moved, faster than sight drawing two identical guns from the holster at his back and levelling them at the car – one at Akira, the other at Hanamichi.

"Oh shit, duck!" Hanamichi yelled.

_No… don't move..._ Akira told himself as he pressed his back into the seat firmly, not lifting his foot from the floor as they hurtled closer and closer.

_Trust him… trust him… trust him… trust him…_

Kaede didn't fire until the last possible second, two simultaneous shots. They were close enough to see the blue in his eyes before Akira reflexively closed his own as the windscreen in front of his face shattered. He felt the wind of the bullet pass his ear and slam into the headrest just beside him.

He opened his eyes in time to see Kaede leap out of the way, rolling into the grass at the side of the road as the Veyron thundered wildly past, mere inches away.

Through the rear-view mirror Akira saw Hisashi and Tetsuo run forwards to pick Kaede up, and he let out a long rush of breath in relief as they vanished rapidly into the distance. He realised that his hands were gripping the steering wheel hard enough to hurt and he tried to force himself to relax a little but it was impossible. Every nerve in his body and brain felt like it had been set on fire.

He allowed himself moment to savour the relief of having survived another encounter with the professed _kitsune_ when a weird gurgling sound beside him brought his world to a sudden brutal stop.

**Nothing but one of your nine lives; king of cats.**

Looking sideways he was horrified to see Hanamichi slumped forwards, clutching a rapidly growing blossom of red on his shirt.

"That bastard…" Hanamichi managed to gasp, two trickles of blood leaking from either side of his mouth, "…that fucking bastard shot me."

...

"_Then if not Akira… you think he'll attack Hanamichi?" _

_Masaya pursed his lips, "There's a sick kind of symmetry about it, right?"_

_Taoka tutted impatiently as if the whole thing was ridiculous, and didn't reply._

_...  
_

~tbc

Notes:

Wow ~ I changed the character of my Kaede-uke! For years I've always envisioned him as outwardly strong but inwardly broken. Then when I came to edit this chapter I finally realised I wanted him to have a bit more credit. He is awesome after all.  
So – fall under Akira's spell, yes, and be deluged with feelings of inadequacy, yes, but pathetic and weak – no! Fighting, burning, go Kaede go! Woooo!

I was supposed to put Kogure and Kaede's history into this chapter but in the end it just didn't fit, and there won't be any space for it in the following chapters, doh! So now I'm thinking of sticking it in an appendix. I mean – you guys probably don't really care how Kogure got involved with the Rukawas too much right? Yeah I'll just leave it to a last footnote for those few who are interested.

Please leave a review if only to say; "No, don't kill Hanamichi, noooooo!", "Yeah, kill that stupid Hanamichi, woohoo!" or "You call that a sex scene! It's only like 600 words damnit!"


	10. Chapter 10

**A Romeo and Juliet Story**

**Chapter 10**

_A very very minor lime warning. Again, it's not explicit stuff. Less like lime and more like… uhm… pineapple._

_This is version 2 of this chapter._

_Many many thanks to the mysterious "A.I" for the comments. This chapter is for you, whoever you are._

The only thing Kogure could see was Kaede's eyes shining as he lay awake; just two pin-pricks of light in the otherwise blackened bedroom. Through the darkness Kogure moved as if he were afraid. He was.

More than ever he had been made aware of the force of Kaede's determination, his merciless strength and utterly ruthless nature. The evidence of it hung all around in the heavy silence and in the insistent stench of blood that choked the stale air like a death sentence.

As he moved with hammering heart through the black air he felt like he was walking into the ninth circle itself. In spite of everything Kaede was more focused and more capable than ever. Faced with such composure _anyone_ would be afraid. One could almost believe those rumours of a boy without a soul.

Kogure padded ever closer, creeping in the darkness like a thief, not entirely sure why he was feeling so nervous, after all this had nothing to do with him. It was just the shock of it he supposed. The nightmarish quality of the whole thing which he was still having trouble believing although god knows he'd seen the proof of it at first hand. Quite how Kaede was managing to maintain his calm was astonishing. Frightening.

Kogure was carrying a tin of ointment in one hand, and a roll of fresh bandages in the other and was holding them both up ahead of him like a shield. He nearly dropped them both however when a reprimanding voice said "don't creep in the dark, sempai."

The bedside light clicked on and Kogure stood quite still in the centre of the suddenly lit room as if caught in headlights. Warmth and shadows cast about the familiar bedroom in equal measure and, under Kaede's intense stare, Kogure tried to settle his jittery nerves. His breathing sounded impossibly loud, as if he were gasping or panting, and that made his cheeks redden in his own peculiar shame. He felt guilty and afraid and shamefully excited all at the same time.

If Kogure's strange behaviour troubled Kaede he didn't show it. His eyes moved down to the objects Kogure was holding and, seeing them, he shifted obediently and laid his hand on top of the blankets. Blood had already soaked through the old dressing to leave crimson splodges on the white bandage.

Kogure's heart was hammering so loudly he was sure Kaede could hear it, but he forced himself to cross the rest of the distance and sat down on the stool placed at the bedside for his use. He reached nervously for the pair of delicate, stainless steel scissors he'd placed on the bedside table not two hours ago and silently set about cutting the sodden bandage away from Kaede's hand. He noticed that the flesh of Kaede's forearm felt icy cold under his steadying fingers, and was cripplingly conscious of Kaede's fierce eyes taking in the sight of him diligently working.

Despite feeling hopelessly ill at ease, his hands were steady and efficient and the process took not more than a few minutes. By the time the bandage had been cut away, the scissors and Kogure's fingertips were all pressed sticky with Kaede's drying blood.

He cleaned up as best he could and, brushing his fringe out of his eyes, took hold of Kaede's hand to examine the wounds. Just looking caused nausea to rise in his throat in powerful waves. In the space where a thumb and index finger should have been there were only two bloodied and congealing stumps where both digits had been completely hacked away. The hand had become odd and lopsided as a result, more like a tree branch or a claw or a rake than a hand. It was weirdly inhuman, yet pitiable in the same way as one would pity a deformed beggar seen on the street.

And this fetid and foul deformation was all that was left of the fastest and most accurate gun hand the Rukawa family had ever produced.

Quite how this disaster had come about was as yet unclear. Hisashi had done it – although the reasons remained anyone's guess. By the time the family had all reconvened at the house and Kaede's horrific injury discovered, it had been well after three, so instead of dealing with the dispute immediately they had decided to confine the two brothers within their rooms and hear out the story in the morning.

On the face of it, it seemed to everyone that Hisashi had made a mistake, for what other result could he expect except the entire alliance turning against him?

Hisashi and Kaede had never been close. Even as children they had seemed to know instinctively the tensions that divided them. Hisashi, Anzai's undoubted favourite son from his first dearly-loved wife, and Kaede who, although well outside Anzai's regard remained fiercely within the protection of the alliance on account of his highly valuable skills. Yet the rivalry which had persisted between the two brothers almost like a game for so many years had this night suddenly evolved into something much more noxious.

And Kogure knew that Hisashi was no fool. He wouldn't have risked this if he hadn't been sure that he would gain more than he would lose. As for _why_ he'd done it, or why he'd done it _now _and not before, Kogure couldn't begin to guess. But he knew that the air in both Kaede and Hisashi's rooms was identical – heavy with strategy and plan. He had no doubt that Hisashi had known exactly what he was doing, and Kaede, well, it seemed madness to say it but even to Kaede the whole thing did not seem wholly unexpected.

But Kogure had no real comprehension of the events of last night. He could decipher nothing specific about the conflicting designs of the two brothers who were silently aligning themselves in opposition. What seemed certain to him was that Hisashi's intention had been to take away Kaede's ability to hold and fire a gun. To take away that last shred of influence Kaede still commanded within the family.

And this time Kogure feared that Kaede might actually… lose.

He shook his head and attended more closely to his task. He tied the fresh bandage as tight as possible and noticed that Kaede didn't even wince. Task complete, he set about gathering the things to take away and to wash, feeling almost grateful that Kaede hadn't spoken during this visit because he just wouldn't have known how to comfort him. But then, as he stood silently to leave, the first stabbing light of dawn brought a trail blaze of red through the French windows into the room. In the same instant Kaede reached out with his left hand and seized Kogure's wrist with a fierce intensity. Kogure stilled in nervous fear.

"Sempai" Kaede's sudden voice in the aching silence was dry and final, each word like a heavy footfall. "I need you to do something for me."

And Kogure, who had never once heard Kaede ask for help from anyone, felt more afraid than ever.

**Cold fear thrills through my veins,**

**That almost freezes up the heat of life.**

In an elegant lounge in the Sendoh house Akira was staring intently at a patch of red dawn sun that had appeared in sharp lines between his feet. It seemed unbearable the way the line it made was not entirely parallel with those on the carpet. He felt an irrepressible need to straighten it out. Around him the beautiful room was silent and awful, as were the seven others sat in it with him, and the whole world in general.

How long had it been? It felt like hours and hours. It felt like a moment. Time's strange and paradoxical moments crept over his skin in cold shivers, as if he were the pathway for a thousand tiny running feet. How he clung to the free-falling reality, and how he failed to do so, was written clearly in his semi-stupored eyes.

The door bent and opened and everyone except Akira stood up.

Taoka Sendoh and Masaya Aida entered along with the seldom seen doctor to the family: Ishizuka. He was a greying man dressed in white overalls with eyes that were continually moving and seeking giving the impression of a great but restless intellect. Akira couldn't help but notice the way the colours on his shoes seemed to melt and blend with the carpet, and immediately became entranced by the spectacle.

"What news?" Koshino's baited voice sounded oddly distant, as if he were calling through thick glass.

The doctor adjusted his clothes as his impatient eyes flickered about, taking in the roomful of intense gathered faces who awaited his words with such anxiety. To Akira's dazed eyes he appeared to shift in and out of focus, blurry against the morning air.

"Hanamichi-sama received a single bullet in his upper right chest which clipped his lung," Ishizuka explained. "The bullet has now been removed and there were no complications. He is still under the effects of the anaesthetic but is thankfully stable."

With a look of dawning relief, Koshino tumbled slowly back into his seat.

"He's going to be okay?" he had to ask, as if not daring to believe the good news.

"I expect him to make a full recovery."

A short moment of glad silence permeated throughout the room and was swiftly followed by an outbreak of relieved chatter as the anxiety of the past hours washed off the occupants like warm soap water. Akira alone remained tense and silent.

"While this is excellent news…" Taoka, who'd already heard the details before he'd arrived, quietened them all with his authoritative tone, "…I want to hear what happened exactly. I'm waiting anxiously to hear upon whom my retribution is due."

He seated himself with his usual self-importance in one of the plush armchairs while everyone else looked uncertainly towards Akira who still hadn't lifted his eyes from the doctor's shoes and didn't appear to even be aware of his father's presence.

Taoka surveyed his eldest son's vacant expression with annoyance; "What the hell is wrong with him?"

"He was quite distraught when he got Hanamichi back last night," Hikoichi explained quickly. "So we gave him some valium to calm him but..."

Taoka's shoulders heaved in irritation. "Akira!" He pronounced each syllable loudly as if talking to a deaf man. "Tell us what happened!"

Akira's eyes trailed languidly over to him without recognition and he sighed long and low, the whole world pressing him down. Everything around him appeared unfamiliar and weird and horrible. His recollection of last night was fractured into oddly unconnected moments, like so many pebbles rattling in his fogged mind while each little fragment kept replaying in his head over and over again maddeningly.

"…went f' a drive…" he began tiredly, hearing the strange slur in his own voice and the odd way it seemed to echo as if he were talking into a microphone "…heard gunfire, came back." He raised his head to see ten faces peering intently at him and hoped that the reflection of Kaede wasn't still visible in his eyes, "picked Hanamichi up an' drove 'wards home, but then he was… there.. .just… in the middle o' the road 'n…"

"Who was there?"

He was quite sure he wouldn't be able to say the name aloud.

"K… Ruka… kawa… son" was all he managed.

"Hisashi?"

"Yeah bu' no, but…" he huffed in frustration. It seemed to him that they were being intolerably dense "other one."

There was a blinking silence.

"The kitsune?"

He nodded wordlessly. The others exchanged brow-raised glances so he closed his weary eyes to their sceptical stares.

"…and?" Taoka's irritated tone pressed him on. With a tired frown Akira reluctantly opened his eyes and continued.

" 'michi said we should try 'n run 'm down but, I don' know how but, well, we were goin' so fast and still, you see, he just jumped out of the way. He shot 'n jumped out of the way. That's all." He gave a final heavy sigh as if the explanation had taken all his strength and fell into silence.

"Then you're saying it was the kitsune?" someone queried in bewilderment.

"He must mean Hisashi, I think" another person supplied.

Akira groaned in irritation. Hadn't he told them already? Why did he have to say it again? "Not Hisashi" he grunted.

Quite suddenly a rush of drugged exhaustion overcame him and he doubled over, head to his knees, quite sure that he was about to pass out. The miserable world tilted and spun mercilessly around him. He could see about him so many identical masks of surprise mirroring his own shock that he felt a weird affinity with them as if they all shared in his chaos of confusion.

_Kaede had shot Hanamichi_.

After all… after everything… the carefully built trust… had everything broken, shattered, just like that? Unable to understand it he slumped forward pathetic and tired and nauseous in his sorry seat.

"Do you mean to tell us…" Uozumi began in disbelief "…that the Kitsune _missed_?"

Akira took a few seconds before finally looking up.

"Missed?" he echoed, staring at Uozumi. "No, but, he did… in the…" he looked towards the doctor for support "…hit him in the…" he trailed off in confusion.

"Masaya," Taoka interrupted Akira's faltering mumbles, "what's your opinion?"

Akira felt too weak to care that he was being so readily excluded from the conversation. His head drooped again, only listening.

Masaya frowned thoughtfully, "The kitsune hasn't participated actively in the rivalry for at least six years… it certainly is strange for Anzai to use him now."

"But you predicted something like this would happen" Taoka pointed out.

Masaya brought his hands up as if to defend himself, "I predicted that Anzai would want Hanamichi killed, true. But this situation is entirely outside my expectations. For the kitsune to miss… well… what do you think doctor?"

Once again under everyone's combined observation the doctor adjusted his glasses and shifted his feet restlessly, "Based on what I've seen of his victims, I too would have to doubt that it was the kitsune who shot Hanamichi-sama last night."

"Why?" Koshino pressed in curiosity, sitting fully forward in his seat.

"Well," the doctor explained, "I had the chance to examine several kitsune gun victims a few years ago. Nineteen shot from his right hand, and a further seven from his left. The most striking thing was that every single one of them had been shot in the same place" he pointed demonstratively "the forehead. When we measured the precise location of the wounds we found that the average deviation from centre was less than a centimetre. I assure you his accuracy is not in question."

"Then," Koshino demanded impatiently, "you think Sendoh-sama made a mistake - it definitely couldn't have been the kitsune who shot Hanamichi?"

"Well… there are still other scenarios," the doctor responded patiently and looked directly at Taoka as he said, "It is possible that he missed on purpose."

Akira startled out of his revere in sudden surprise, saved the embarrassment of notice only because no one was looking in his direction. He felt himself turn sheet pale.

Masaya put his hand to his chin as if thinking deeply while Akira held his breath.

"It can't be denied that it is possible," Masaya said finally, "but I've told you my opinion before. The boy is little more than a machine, only capable of following instructions. If he missed on purpose, it must have been because Anzai told him to, and for no other reason."

There were general nods of agreement around the room and a murmur of interest as the conversation became diverted by Anzai's supposed motives.

Perhaps it was the clouds muddling Akira which held at bay the implications of Masaya's words for the moment. In fact a little ironic relief returned to him now that his family seemed to have become preoccupied by this convenient falsehood. They were actually seeking to absolve Kaede of the deed. Akira didn't even need to try to manipulate the situation or defend Kaede from this, if he were even capable of such a thing given his current state. It felt as if he had been snatched back from the very edge of discovery. It was so providential, so very expedient for him that he relished in foggy gratitude.

And then, even as he sat calmed, he found himself wondering about what Kaede was doing at that moment and whether he was in a similar meeting over at the Rukawa house. And even as he envisioned it, the chilling comprehension of reality gripped him. His breath stilled in his throat for a moment and he stood up unsteadily in horrified realisation. All at once he saw just how much danger Kaede was in.

"Sendoh-sama?" Masaya queried him in puzzlement.

Akira looked dazedly at all the familiar faces pointed his way which spun and blurred so that he couldn't recognise any of them. He only saw last night's image of Kaede, kneeing in the mud and vanishing into the distance in his rear-view mirror, Tetsuo and Hisashi beside him. Why the hell hadn't he realised this at the time?

"Feel sick" he blurted, and fled the room.

**Romeo, away, be gone!**

**Stand not amazed:- the prince will doom thee death,**

**If thou art taken – hence, be gone, away!**

Fifteen minutes later and Akira was hurtling down the road to Miura in Hanamichi's blue BMW. The roof was down so that the wind's blast would help to keep him awake but he was still having difficulty concentrating, having had no sleep and a heavy dose of sedatives. It was only adrenaline and sheer force of will that kept him functioning.

He sped past mile after mile of determinedly deserted beach, his panic rising with each moment in which there was no sign of that distinctive green bike. Kaede had said to meet here but… what if something had gone wrong? There was no other way for Akira to find out what the situation was. His gut churned with the uncertainty of it all.

He rounded a gentle bend and all at once spotted a miraculous shape in the distance. A single rider on a stationary bike waiting by the beachside. In relief and joy he pressed his foot to the floor only to ease off uncertainly when he realised that it was neither Kaede nor Kaede's bike after all.

This rider was unidentifiable, dressed in full black leathers and helmet. The bike was an expensive and rare Honda NR750 also in black which Akira had never seen before. The stranger appeared much shorter than Akira, Yohei's height perhaps, and yet his build was far too slender to be Hanamichi's ruffian friend. His head was turned to watch the car's approach attentively.

Akira rubbed a sleepy hand across his eyes. If it turned out to be an enemy he knew he was in no condition to defend himself. He looked around the area and tried to think clearly. The beach was open and deserted with unobstructed views a good mile or two in either direction so there was no chance of an ambush coming from there. The other side of the road was a thick scrub of trees which might conceal men but was too dense to accommodate a bike or a car. It seemed that apart from that one individual, there would be no others to contend with. Considering that the stranger was of modest stature and slender build he hardly seemed a match for Akira, and so Akira elected to continue to approach, but not without drawing a handgun from the car's glove department.

He drew up a short distance away, opening the door of the car but not cutting the engine. With his gun gripped tightly in his right hand he put one foot out and stood, his head rising out of the open roof into the familiar salty sea-air of the beachside.

"Who are you?" he called loudly and firmly, blue-eyes narrowed in suspicion.

The rider tipped his head to the left as if puzzled for a moment and then gently tugged at his helmet until it came loose in a tumble of brown locks. He clunked it down carelessly on the fuel tank between his thighs and sighed.

"Sendoh-san" he greeted.

The eyes that lifted and looked unhappily over at Akira were devoid of their usual warmth. The boy looked as bad as Akira felt, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with black from lack of sleep.

"Kogure-san…"

Akira abandoned the gun and the car and approached him, feeling as if each step were one more towards the guillotine. Kogure's presence, he knew, could only be a bad thing. There was an uncomfortable silence filled with both of their exhaustions until Akira managed to put forward a question;

"What…" he could hear his voice collapsing into a hoarse whisper even as he spoke "… what have they done to him?"

Kogure bit his lip and wouldn't meet Akira's eyes. He seemed reluctant to speak, as if saying it would make it more real somehow. He twisted his fingers about each other nervously as Akira waited desperately for him to speak.

"Kogure-san I…"

"His fingers…" Kogure hissed in a voice stained black with bitterness "…cut off his fingers."

Akira felt his whole body go cold.

**Then turn tears to fires**

The first few moments of numbness were a blessing. Even the sight of Kogure leaning over and retching the acidic contents of his empty stomach onto the dirt made everything seem temporarily less real. Akira watched as if he weren't really there. As if it were all beyond him, the life of another person. Panic didn't reach him. The crumbling world didn't rock him. Nothing touched him for a few precious seconds of sacred airy suspension.

And then it fell upon him.

He struggled desperately against his imagination, trying to shut it down. He tried not to envision Tetsuo forcing Kaede to the floor, Hisashi crushing his brother's forearm into immobility with his boot, right there in the dirt tracks Akira had left behind. He tried not to hear the sounds of grunting, gasping, desperate struggling, nails clawing at the dirt, the sing of the blade through the air, and then the splintering of bone. He tried not to wonder whether Kaede – deadly, dangerous Kaede – had screamed.

Akira looked down in shock and saw his hands. He wondered whether they were really his, large and ungraceful and so incapable of protecting what he cared for. He wondered who and what Akira Sendoh really was and why he had failed so terribly.

He looked up into Kogure's eyes and caught sight of his reflection - a man he no longer recognised, worn down by love and despair and cursed, inescapable fate. Among the red roads of eye blood shot like streamers he could see everything as little paths of intentions and reactions, intricate and twisting and yet strangely comprehensible. Puzzlingly mathematical in its exactitude. How horrible.

Kogure's back was straight and stiff and his face a well calculated picture of composure. Akira stared at him in curiosity and wondered where the gentle soul he'd become familiar with had gone. Perhaps like Akira he'd been broken under the crushing wheels of fate, or perhaps like Kaede it had been only a mask to hide his agony all along. As he stared, Akira began to see with increasingly clarity that even as Kogure sat with his proud back, his entire world and all he lived for was turning to dust around him, and that he knew it, and that he despaired.

Akira frowned. Was the same fate reserved for him too? Would he, in the end, see what he had come to love crushed and destroyed as he stood by helplessly – trapped by this ridiculous taboo, this wall, this name which he carried in his blood like a slave-brand? Would cruel gods never think to grant this warm, desperate love a happy ending?

Something inside him twisted with resentment at the unfairness of it all. He clenched his fists in rising anger. If the world would not grant Kaede and he even one short moment of freedom, then he would just have to create one himself. His pride and his blood, resentful and sharp rose within his chest, just as bile rose in his throat and he looked at Kogure suddenly filled with revulsion.

He wouldn't accept this. He was more than that. He was not prepared to lay down before the inevitable. He was going face the coming onslaught with his sword drawn. Not to bow for a second to that fickle dance of fate, but to defy and struggle until he reached whatever sorry end awaited two star-crossed lovers.

He didn't know precisely what to do, or how to do it, but he knew with a valium-induced clarity greater than he'd ever known that he could not leave things like this.

He met Kogure's eyes determinedly.

"I must go to him" he said.

**Stand up, stand up; stand, an' you be a man.**

The moon was being fickle. She would bring herself out of her clouded robe to tease and tantalise and bath the parkland around the house in her own eerie whiteness before retreating as if struck with sudden shyness.

Under her capering frivolities, creatures were moving in the midnight moonscape. Tiny moths and other night-loving insects flew secretly among the grasses. Small rodents – voles and shrews – sniffed and snorted through the dry undergrowth while a fox with a sharp whiskered face slunk warily among the trees.

It had been more than eighteen hours since he'd met with Kogure, but Akira's vehemence had not relented. And so now he was here, moving with natural-born confidence through the landscape, pushing aside the long, moon-kissed stems of wildgrass as he went. This night was going to be of his conception; he was making it, forging it out of his own nerve and fire. Nothing, nothing, was beyond his power. Not even the bricks of the walls could refuse him on this night.

He walked onwards with all the power and dignity due to the heir of Sendoh, with his eyes forward and his feet sure, as if the midnight parkland around him were part of his own private estate. The ingrained comprehension of his own authority, impressed on him since birth, showed itself in every effortless stride he took. To an observer it would have seemed like the entire world was his to lead, to command and possess.

And yet the elegant mansion that rose at the centre of his vision was not his own. For these lands and this house belonged to that other great family – Rukawa – and despite his equally heavy ancestry, Akira was now playing at little better than common thievery. But unlike a thief Akira felt no need to hide from the moon. Where he was treading now he felt sure, with every ebb and flow of his pounding soul, was wholly and entirely his own. Because he was, more fiercely than he'd ever been before, _Akira Sendoh_, and it had taken eventual comprehension of the antithetical strength of Kaede Rukawa to find that in himself. To decide that he would never again allow himself to fail.

He crossed the silent, formal gardens with loud crunching gravel feet, exposed so clearly in the moon's laughing light. Perhaps it was his impossible confidence alone that enabled him to walk so brazenly through this veritable viper's nest unscathed, and let him arrive underneath Kaede's second floor balcony without having seen another soul. And there he paused and looked up calmly.

There was nothing to make this window distinctive among the dozens of others that fronted onto the gardens. The railing was white painted oak, sturdy vertical columns in an antiquated shapely design supporting the main rail. Gaps between the posts allowed Akira to see that this balcony was empty, devoid of the plant pots and hanging baskets of flowers that dominated some of the others. There were only French sliding doors leading from the bedroom to the outside, iron wrought with clear sheet glass, simple but with a small embellishment around the handle, the metal shaped into an elegant spiral.

Akira didn't doubt for a moment whether this was the right window despite appearing as though it belong to an uninhabited room. He had only Kogure's word to go by, and yet it was as if for this night he had an in-built comprehension of such things. He didn't even feel concerned about how he would manage to climb up the twelve feet separating him and it. He just knew that he would.

**What must be shall be.**

With complete surety he reached out to the vertical wall before him, stepping into a flower bed and pushing away the thick, leathery leaves of the climbing vine that grew there. Flower heads which, in the daytime would show their summer splendid colours in yellows and oranges, danced around his feet dulled by the moonlight. Bypassing the vine leaves Akira pressed his hands against the rough brickwork, certain that it would yield to him, and indeed it seemed to as his fingers hooked a small gap in the frontage where a brick was missing. Keeping one hand on it he reached up higher with his other and found a second similar handhold.

Someone, perhaps years ago, had created a way to climb up and down from this exact balcony which now belonged to Kaede. Akira didn't question this, the evidence was clear enough, and it didn't seem particularly remarkable to him then – a whole lot less like luck and a whole deal more like fate. Whoever had made it for whatever purpose seemed less important than the fact that it was there and so, for the moment he was content simply to climb.

The strong muscles of his arms and shoulders contracted and slid over one another as he pulled himself upwards through the vine. He would have looked exceedingly odd to any passer-by: a tall boy scaling the side of the building, but tonight there was no one there to see. Finally he put his hands directly onto the balcony rail and with a powerful heave of his arms pulled himself up and over it, onto the balcony proper.

Akira didn't linger but moved immediately forwards and found the French window open by only the merest of cracks, not even wide enough to accommodate his smallest finger. He had to hook it with his nails to drag it open. And then finally he paused, not in hesitation but in contemplation of this moment to which he'd brought himself. He was about to break into the Rukawa mansion, and the thought made him smile with the mad irony of it. He who, only three short months ago had had no contact whatsoever with the rival family, was stood here now on the verge of initiating an unrecognisable future, for better or for worse. And yet it felt so peaceful, so natural that he couldn't reconcile the imbalance between fast approaching chaos and this short moment of serenity.

He breathed in deeply, the warm air passing by him out of the room and into the cool night had a fragrance. The strange scent of an unfamiliar house coupled with something else – the familiar consolation of the boy his soul was joined to. He breathed it and felt himself surrounded by it. Silently he stepped in through the opening.

The room that met his eyes was not what he had been expecting.

The first thing that caught his eye were posters on the walls of sports teams and NBA players, fading and curling at the corners and dated for seasons long past. Although they were indistinct in the midnight darkness, Akira could imagine small immature fingers pressing the sticky tack determinedly between the sheet and painted wall. It made him realise that there had been a time when Kaede had been a normal kid, had had dreams and interests and passions just as any other eight year-old would. That he had been enthusiastic enough to put up all these posters. Such a contrast to the boy who no longer cared enough to even take them down again.

Akira moved further into the room in fascination, feeling like he was catching secret glimpses of a Kaede he didn't know, noticing the shelves which supported dozens of small trophies. In curiosity he drew closer and picked one up. The engraved words were only just visible; _1992 Japanese Children's Nationals 25m Rapid Fire Pistol Event First Place_. The one beside it was similar; _Gold Award Detroit Sports Festival Under 18s 1993 10m Air Pistol._ He stared blankly at them; old and neglected monuments to a phenomenal talent dated from a time before the abomination known as the _kitsune_ had come to be. In fact the whole room felt like it had been preserved, trapped in the past, ten years ago, steeped in the ruins of so many dreams.

He shivered and felt suddenly alone.

"Akira."

But was not alone.

He looked towards Kaede who was now sitting upright in bed, having been woken by his arrival. Blue eyes were fixed on him without any obvious emotion – no surprise, no anger or joy, only that well-familiar blankness, a certain expectant waiting, without bias or anticipation. That marvellous openness disguised as indifference that Akira had come to appreciate so much.

He didn't hesitate but moved quickly to Kaede's side, ignoring the stool at the side of the bed and sitting directly on the mattress, close to Kaede's warmth.

"Because I had to see you" he said, although no question had been asked.

Kaede stared at him, a shadow of emotion passing briefly over his features before it was gone again.

"It's dangerous" he pointed out in mild accusation.

Akira frowned, "do you think that I am afraid?"

Kaede hesitated. _Of pain, of death? Who would not be afraid?_ He opened his mouth as if to reply, only to close it again. His old eyes had seen far too much of both.

Seeing a darkness flicker in the depths of Kaede's almost infallible expression Akira leaned forward, and Kaede's eyes widened as their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling and blue eyes meeting across impossible closeness.

"There's not a single thing they could do to me that would change what I feel for you."

There was a short moment of quiet breathing before Kaede managed to echo the word; "Feel..?" as he recalled the sensations Akira had given him just the night before. It hadn't been just a reaction of the flesh but something else, something faltering in his chest, something that had made him spare the life of that other boy simply because Akira would have wished it. The pleasure his body had felt under Akira's touch had been balanced by the pain Hisashi had inflicted on him and he could understand that. But the other feelings, less tangible, remained constant and unchanged and utterly incomprehensible to him.

Seeing his confusion, Akira couldn't help but reach out with one hand to touch a pale, troubled cheek, astonished at the ferocity of his desire to comfort this long-wandering child who had become so lost among unkind years. He caught his fingers in Kaede's hair behind his ear, pressed his palm against the elegant jaw and cupped his face gently. Kaede immediately flushed with the motion of tenderness, and with the sticky heat Akira's breath left on his cheek.

**Arise, fair sun.**

"I love you."

That was all, said so simply. Akira's words like little pins trust into his dark soul. Kaede stilled in bewilderment. He had to squeeze his eyes tight to the pain of blinding light. How was it that Akira could speak it so easily, when Kaede couldn't even muster the ability to open his suddenly dry lips? Didn't he have to say something? Wasn't he supposed to say something back? To step out, somehow, into the daytime? But how was he supposed to repeat it when he knew that those words from his wraith lips would be like sacrilege; foul, noxious and nothing better than an insult? A shadow like him had no right to speak of the dawn, let alone curse others with such an utterance. But if he didn't speak, wasn't that… rejection? How could that be when it was he and he alone who deserved to be left behind?

Akira watched the struggles in Kaede's creased eyebrows and shuttered eyes. He knew that warmth, kindness, human contact had been utter blanks in Kaede's life, and that the boy's hands were probably stained with more blood than he could begin to imagine. He knew too that Kaede had very little control over his own emotions, didn't know how to express himself, struggled even to acknowledge his own feelings. He was almost like a child in his emotional immaturity. And so Akira expected nothing back. For now at least his desires were much simpler. Only to sit beside one another in silence would have been enough for him. Just to breathe the same air. Just to rest their foreheads together like this in a moment of sweet contentment. Just to know that with a shift of his body they might brush against each other, a hand or a knee or a gentle touch of shoulders. That alone would have been enough.

"I…" Kaede faltered over the words so inelegantly that Akira had to smile. He brushed his thumb over the lips that he knew would never be able to explain.

_You don't have to say anything, Kaede._

Kaede's eyes opened. There was something odd in his expression, Akira couldn't quite place it. A flicker like anger, and yet not anger. Pride wounded by frustration. Decision.

He blinked in surprise when Kaede silently reached forward to take his hand. Such a rare, assertive gesture made Akira still; only watching Kaede move in wonder. He noticed the rough, white bandage that was bulky around Kaede's right hand, but since Kaede himself didn't seem conscious of it, he didn't mention it. He only looked on in fascination as Kaede lifted his hand up gently, and then sucked his breath in with surprise when soft lips pressed a velvet kiss against his finger tips.

There was such sweetness in the gesture. An overwhelming naivety; innocence pressed honey-like from the mute lips of a boy whose name was synonymous with death and violence – oh! A soft, moist tongue brushed curiously against his sensitive, salty touch, trembling slightly in a haze of actualisation. The lips parted, and his two fingers slipped fully inside the warmth of that unspeaking mouth and then Akira couldn't breathe. Momentarily the silent tongue was trapped below his pressing tips but it soon escaped to the side and wrapped itself in silken drapes around him like a love poem in which words would have been entirely superfluous.

The sensation of the heated air that passed over his skin as Kaede breathed out, followed by the cool rush of it as he breathed in again was so much like hot life, so dire and needy, it felt like Akira was brushing his fingers against Kaede's very desire to live; the fundamental thirst for air which could not be sated. Yet even that marvel was pale compared to the sight of him. Surrender. Defencelessness. Confession. Akira's stomach twisted into increasingly beautiful knots.

When Kaede opened his blue eyes and gazed up at him, Akira couldn't help but wrench his fingers away, more forcefully than he intended, and gripping Kaede's shoulders firmly he replaced them almost desperately with his mouth.

As he pushed Kaede back down onto the pillows, he realised that he was going to make love to this creature, and that this could well be the only chance he would ever have to do so. With his hands tangled in Kaede's hair Akira peeled back clothes as if peeling back the layers of the soul. Seeking for the centre of him, only to realise that he already held it, then to lose it and then to find it again. And Kaede's gasps, his pain, his ecstasy, was in its turn Akira's gasps and pains and ecstasies.

Two souls already meshed so tightly together that the joining of their bodies was only an imitation of it, and not the thing itself. Not a primal, fleshy twist of passions but an acknowledgment, reverence, veneration.

And as they comforted one another they both knew, as if they shared one mind, that this was their last chance. The last moment. There was no going back. Whatever ends they were bringing upon themselves they brought now with their eyes open and their minds clear and their hearts beating. And knowing that this could be both the first and the last time, Akira lost himself in the bitter-sweetness of what was so beautiful and yet so fleeting.

How to capture it? How to make it last beyond the bearing dawn?

He didn't know.

**So smile the heavens upon this holy act,**

**That after-hours with sorrow chide us not.**

By the time morning came to Kaede's room, Akira and all traces of him were long gone.

Wincing with discomfort Kaede sat up and lifted his eyes to the image of the Rukawa tree that dominated the wall of his bedroom. His awakened mind twisted the image in ways he'd never noticed before. He saw the black stain of branches spread like claws across the crisp white canvas; an irremovable brand across the soul. Across the bottom cut that ever-persistent name: Rukawa.

For a moment he could almost imagine the tree coming to life, touching him with those icy branch-like fingers, restricting his breathing, squeezing the life out of him.

He shook his vision off coolly and continued to stare at it for a long time – the family he was set to betray. Finally he reached out with his mutilated, bandaged hand and smoothed the fabric idly.

**We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not.**

~tbc

I don't know what to say.

I'm aching with the effort of writing this ;_;

I really need a beta reader - not for spelling/grammar but someone who can look critically at plot, characterisation, metaphor and timing. Please send me a message if you're interested in giving me a hand, thanks!

Please leave a review if only to say "climbing up to the balcony? That's SO freaking corny", "needs moar sex!", or "hold it! We're all outta noodles".


	11. Chapter 11

**A Romeo and Juliet Story**

**Chapter 11**

_5:16am_

_There was the knife. His own knife. And his arm twisted behind his back. Why did you miss? He struggled against Tetsuo's weight. Answer me, you son of a bitch! Hisashi aimed a vicious kick into his face and he gasped on a throatful of dirt._

_The blade eased inwards. Slowly. Slowly until it rested against bone. Stinging pain so sharp, so intense and bright that even he struggled to bear it. Again he asked Why did you miss?_

_Because Sendoh Akira is my lover. The thought sounded like thunder._

"_Why did you miss?" _

"_Because Sendoh Akira is my lover." _

_Right into Hisashi's horrified ear._

Kaede rolled over and found himself looking at the grey ceiling of his own bedroom. The night was breaking into unconnected shadows as the sun crept slowly up the horizon. The dream remained bright and clear in his head. Except it wasn't a dream. It was a memory - it had actually happened.

He thought he'd had it all decided. He _knew_ what he was doing. Every inch of his logic, his judgement, even his gut told him that the plan would work. Then why… why did it return as nightmares? Why was his subconscious betraying him like this?

Never having been one to be swayed by the whims of the subliminal he rolled over in irritation and simply returned to sleep, one eyebrow ticked in annoyance at the inconvenience of his fear.

_7:20am_

In another bedroom in another part of the mansion, Kogure opened his eyes to the morning sun with a powerful sense of foreboding. The rays were tossed like discarded clothes over the bed sheets. Ahead he could see the lines and indentations of skin and muscle and bone that formed the barrier of Hisashi's chest; the barrier between flesh and soul. He twisted in the warm, constricting arms about him. What was this feeling? He felt dizzy with anticipation, a horrible gnawing in his lungs, the feeling of the world grinding ever onwards without pause or mercy. Silently he clung to Hisashi and trembled.

**Bitterly begin this fearful date.**

_11:13am_

Kaede entered the conference room with his usual silence, intending to be as unobtrusive as possible. He was late, but the meeting didn't seem to have started yet. He was forced to stop short however when he noticed that his usual seat was missing. Akagi and Ayako were sitting shoulder to shoulder as if they always had, as if Kaede had never sat between them before and as if they couldn't understand why he was looking at them.

He hesitated in spite of himself, but this wasn't really an unexpected development. This was the third meeting now following the Maki fiasco and it was only a wonder that it hadn't happened sooner.

He recovered himself quickly, irritated that so much attention was being forced his way when he hadn't wanted to be noticed, and silently looked towards his father. He knew Anzai shared Hisashi's anger that he had failed to kill two Sendohs, and also the alliance's anger that he no longer had the level of skill that they had come to rely on. But he was still surprised when Anzai gravely indicated the chair at the furthest end of the table for his use. The lowest chair. Kaede froze. The symbolism of such a demotion was obvious. It was as if Anzai had demanded he sit on the floor like a dog. And as if to make everything worse: there was Hisashi in his prominent seat directly at Anzai's right smirking infuriatingly. Kaede's pride twisted torturously.

Ignoring his raging anger, Kaede took a breath and gathered what remained of his self-respect around him like a shield against the stares. The silence stretched thin like wire as all eyes scratched his skin. They were all waiting to see how he would react. Perhaps they were hoping he would lose his cool, hoping that they would finally be allowed to see inside him – his pride and his pain.

Well, they would be disappointed.

Kaede pursed his lips slightly and then turned as if he wasn't aware of the implications of the new seating arrangement and walked with every appearance of dignity down to the end of the table. Each footstep sounded like a drumbeat in the silence. Every pair of eyes watched him in morbid curiosity, the same kind of curiosity as the braying crowd pressed close around the scaffold waiting to watch a hanging. Scrutinising him closely for any suggestion of a crack in his façade. Sick.

Taking his place in the lowest seat he put both his hands on the mahogany table top where everyone could see them clearly – the left one whole, the right hopelessly maimed – and then glared silently at all of them as if daring someone to make a comment. No one had.

Perhaps he'd always known that he'd been living on borrowed time. First he'd lost his name, and now he was no longer even _useful _- just another broken tool – he shouldn't be surprised, he'd always been waiting for this moment. Truthfully he'd had _years_ to prepare himself for it, but it didn't make it any easier to bear the humiliation.

_Have they already forgotten what I am capable of? _He pondered furiously. _ Is their fear so easily dispelled? Fools to think all my worth could be counted on two fingers._

Anzai started the meeting with a rustle of papers.

"Today" he announced "is the handover day for the Sendoh-Maki business contracts. We will be continuing with the plan as finalised."

Kaede's eyes flashed up to the head of the table and met with his brother's stare. Hisashi was still smirking theatrically but his eyes revealed wariness; the only one in the room who seemed to realise that Kaede was more of a threat than he perhaps seemed at this moment. Kaede met his stare head on and felt the twitch of an ironic smile touch his own lips. Hisashi's intense suspicion gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. The memory of their exchange on the night of the Maki meeting came back to him.

"_Because Sendoh Akira is my lover."_

What an intense couple of seconds had followed that revelation. If Hisashi had harboured any suspicions at all, and Kaede didn't believe that he had, he most certainly would not have expected them confirmed. And yet there it was, perhaps Kaede's greatest secret delivered almost like a gift.

But telling Hisashi wasn't necessarily the madness it first appeared to be. The time it took for Hisashi to decide what to do with such dangerous information was what Kaede was gambling on. He had been baiting the trap; that was all.

Even now Hisashi stared at him down the table as if trying to work him out. It was obvious that Hisashi couldn't discern his motives in making such a confession and of course Hisashi couldn't repeat such an improbable statement to anyone without any proof. To do so would be to invite ridicule; it was just too unbelievable. Perhaps Hisashi didn't even believe it himself. Who _would_ believe it? _Everyone_ knew that the _kitsune_ had no heart, no soul and no mind. It was ludicrous to believe that he was capable of keeping anything like a _lover_. And the heir to Sendoh, no less! But how dark and wonderful it had felt to say it aloud. What a light-headed victory Kaede had momentarily stolen at his brother's mortified expense.

He held Hisashi's gaze now with a look in his eye that hinted challenge. Just like a chess game it was Hisashi's turn to move. It had been two months now and Kaede knew it was only a matter of time before Hisashi would move against him.

Kaede sat back in his seat and dismissed his brother's stare with a tiny yet infuriatingly arrogant flick of his head. Hisashi's eyes narrowed dangerously in response.

**For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring**

_1:35pm_

Taoka couldn't help grinning as he finalised the last of the documentation, tapping the small collection of papers on the teak desk with an air of importance. He slid the pristine white sheets into a plain, black briefcase with the kind of care one might show a priceless piece of chinaware. There were only a few sheets but they were fundamental; stamped and signed personally by himself rather than by Masaya who usually handled such matters on his behalf. They were the final documents which would formalise the Sendoh treaty with the Maki Syndicate. And by definition when Maki became a Sendoh ally then they would also become a Rukawa enemy. With such a powerful crime ring behind them, the Sendohs would be able to compete with the Rukawas with much greater confidence. Taoka actually trembled at the thought of it. He had achieved this. He had swiped this from right under Anzai's nose. All that was left to do was to deliver the papers, a task that was more symbolic than anything but which would set the foundations to the business relationship and couldn't be left to chance. He would be entrusting the job to the most reliable people he had.

He looked up at his two sons who stood silently by the door watching him. Akira's face was solemn and serious while Hanamichi's was bored as he fingered the gun at his waist absentmindedly. They made a good team, Taoka mused. Akira was already quite brilliant in business and a cornerstone in all the family's ventures. A natural genius, or so they said. When the time eventually came for him to pass leadership of the house onto Akira he knew it would be passing into capable hands.

The two boys before him were the future. He smiled at them. He didn't do such a thing often, and it drew a look of puzzlement out of Akira. Hanamichi, still fiddling around, didn't notice anything. Taoka allowed himself this brief moment of fatherly pride as he snapped the briefcase shut and handed it to his eldest son.

"It's finished" he said "all that is left is to deliver this to Maki-san's representatives."

"Great!" Hanamichi stretched and yawned, glad no doubt to be able to leave the office and head out into some action "let's go!"

"Are you sure you're up to this, Hanamichi?" Masaya queried from Taoka's side.

Hanamichi gave a derisive laugh, "Come on uncle, it's been two months already!" He jiggled his previously wounded shoulder as if to prove the point, "See?"

Akira swallowed. _Two months!_ Two months since he'd last seen Kaede. The agony of separation and uncertainty was almost unbearable.

"The two of you will go together." Taoka was continuing, "You will go in Akira's car as we discussed, and you will be escorted by three men on motorbikes." He gestured to Hanamichi's friends Yohei, Noda and Okusu who stood waiting a little way to the side. "We don't know what the Rukawas intend to do, though we expect they will probably make some attempt to intercept you. If there is any emergency Akira will take charge. Hanamichi, you will follow Akira's lead."

Hanamichi made a noise like a complaint while Akira took the briefcase solemnly and nodded to his father. Without further words or ceremony the group of five young men left the office.

_1:37pm_

There was not a single chink of natural light in this basement room in the bowels of the house. Only an artificial amber glow from a shadeless bulb cast shadows about the place. Kaede grunted in pain as Tetsuo's fist buried itself in the muscles of his stomach. He tried to twist away or curl his body protectively but his wrists bound so tightly to the beam at his back restricted his movements. He gasped as another blow caught his chin and sent his head snapping into dramatic profile. Blood mixed with spittle flew from his bruised lip.

Away to the side Hisashi looked on silently. After a few more blows he approached and Tetsuo obediently stepped back. The room was silent apart from Kaede's painful rasping gasps and Tetsuo's laboured breathing.

Using an index finger Hisashi lifted Kaede's chin and peered into his swollen face.

"You think you're so fucking smart, it makes me sick" he hissed, his breath hot on Kaede's cheek. "I'm going to kill Sendoh Akira. You know that, right?"

Kaede's eyes slid painfully closed. His voice was weak and unsteady as he murmured, "you can't. You need him alive."

Hisashi seemed momentarily taken aback, but then he laughed coolly. "Well, perhaps you're right, I might need him alive, but it's not necessary for him to be… intact." He felt Kaede trembling and smiled broadly. When there was no reply, he withdrew his finger and let his brother's head drop.

"You're going to stay right here," he continued with a smirk "while I go and _play_ with that Sendoh faggot for a while. I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun, even without you. If you like, I'll bring you back a souvenir. How about some ripped fingernails… or perhaps I could pull a few teeth?"

Kaede didn't have the energy to retort, and Hisashi turned away in amusement, motioning for Tetsuo to follow him.

"Don't feel bad," Tetsuo added sneeringly as they left, "we'll be back to _play_ with you later, Kaede-_sama._" He licked his lips in foul anticipation.

The room was plunged into blackness as the door closed. Kaede heard the bolt being drawn from the other side, tugged hopelessly at his binds and groaned softly in pain.

Hisashi met Kogure on the other side of the bolted door. The boy was as white as a sheet, leaning against the wall to support himself.

"Been listening in, have you?"

Kogure raised his wide eyes to meet Hisashi's in a daze.

The taller boy leaned down and delivered a gentle kiss to his lips. Kogure immediately reached out with two trembling hands and clung to him, burying his face in his lover's chest.

"Hisashi, I'm afraid."

"Kiminobu…" Hisashi murmured soothingly, stroking his hair in comfort, "let him out in a couple of hours, okay?"

Kogure pulled away, his expression changed to one of surprise. "Let him out?" he queried "Kaede?"

Hisashi nodded, "In two hours."

Kogure's brown eyes blossomed with confusion. "Okay" he said uncertainly.

"I love you" Hisashi told him sweetly, kissing his nose.

"…I…"

_3:17_

The city was busy, the traffic lights irritating, and the progress hopelessly slow.

"This is crazy" Hanamichi complained, looking about, "can't you go any faster?"

Akira was forced to pull on the brakes yet again as a van pulled out of a side street in front of them.

"We don't want any attention" he pointed out.

Hanamichi rolled his eyes. "If we didn't want attention, we wouldn't be driving through the middle of Yokohama in a neon-yellow supercar."

"It's not neon" Akira protested weakly.

"I just don't like this" Hanamichi grumbled, settling deep in the seat and folding his arms.

Suddenly the intercom gave a beep and Yohei's familiar voice came through into the car;

"Sendoh-sama, look behind."

**By my head, here come the Capulets.**

Both brothers looked up simultaneously. In the mirror they could see a commotion occurring on the pavement some way back. It appeared at first as if there was a bicycle travelling quickly on the walkway, but it soon became apparent that it wasn't a bicycle at all – it was a motorbike – and it was approaching them rapidly as people attempted to jump out of the way.

**By my heel, I care not.**

"Rukawas?" Hanamichi exclaimed in excitement.

Akira didn't wait to find out. He swung the car out of the queue for the lights into the lane of oncoming traffic, gunning it forwards. Horns immediately blared but he didn't hesitate or slow.

"Go!" Hanamichi urged him.

The acceleration gripped them.

_3:20pm_

Light – so painful. It felt like it was burning his skin rather than just his eyes. In his disorientation he wondered whether the fires of hell were licking him finally - had his long overdue penance come upon him?

He had to close his eyes to the pain and felt himself entirely helpless, like a newborn blinded by its first morning. He couldn't even see who it was that had opened the door and happened upon him in his helplessness. Unable to see, unable even to move his lashed wrists, heaven or hell could fall upon him and he'd be unable to do anything. So vulnerable. He hated it. His skin festered and crawled with it.

He felt a hand cup his sightless face and a delicate thumb caress his cheek, wiping away blood and bitterness. He stiffened, but then recognising the touch he leant into it.

"Sempai" he greeted with a sigh.

He felt the small body press up against him, curling like a cat seeking warmth. The weight made his bruised stomach and chest ache in protest, but he wouldn't have pushed away this shared despair for all the world.

They sat together in silence for some minutes, listening to each other's breathing as they both struggled to come to terms with what they were about to do. They both realised that this was perhaps the last time they'd share this strange affection; realised that they loved each other more than ever: two caged birds that sang so sweetly.

"Kaede, I don't understand." The voice was so small, so like a child that had lost its way that Kaede ached for him, and all the more for knowing that there was no longer a path to be found. No route out of this dark place.

Gentle hands finally encircled his waist like an embrace, and Kogure's head rested so trustingly on his shoulder as fingers pulled at the knots which held his wrists.

"Wait…" the protest fell painfully from Kaede's dry, bloodied lips. Kogure stopped.

Kaede turned his head towards the sound of Kogure's breathing and cursed his own foolishness. Hadn't he already decided? Why on earth was he so weak? Why was there still this fearful part of him which wished that his chance to confront Hisashi, to save Akira, would vanish and leave him once again hollow; a shadow creature only capable of bearing the weak light of Kogure's half-smile?

Kogure had paused in his actions of releasing Kaede's hands and only pressed himself against him so that Kaede could feel every ragged sodden breath of sorrow that he took. He seemed to understand what Kaede couldn't fathom.

"You and I are the same" he said, his voice steady yet crushingly sad. "Both cursed to make a choice between the two things we cannot live without."

His senses finally adjusting to the blinding light, Kaede found he could open his eyes. But it wasn't his eyes but his mind that saw the dust-laden beams of light projecting from the open door forming the swifts and drifts of Kogure's shapeless feathered wings. Everything he'd ever loved, ever cared for, was here pressed against him. Through years of blood, of torture and pain, he'd known no love but that gifted to him by Kogure's tormented heart. It was so beautiful and so sad; how they'd clung to one another, and how they would let each other go.

Such a choice. Now, here, finally upon him and though he'd thought he'd known the answer, it was every bit as difficult as he had feared. This guilt, this torn soul, would always be his alone to bear.

Stay or go.

Kiminobu or Akira.

"Sempai" he said softly, "please… untie me."

Kogure's tears fell like knives upon the cold floor as he released Kaede's wrists.

"Please, don't make him suffer" came the broken plea, "when you…." the voice splintered into a whisper "…when you kill Hisashi."

Kaede was stunned for a moment, but then he leant forward and kissed the tears gathered in Kogure's eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he said. The only promise he'd ever made – broken. The first and final betrayal.

**Death lies on her like an untimely frost**

**Upon the sweetest flower of all the field**

Kaede was still climbing the stairs out of the basement when he heard it. He froze, one foot still on the stair above, and looked back towards the open door of the room he'd just left. He didn't need to go back to see what had happened. He remained standing there for several minutes nonetheless, just in case there was some sound to be heard, but there was nothing. When he put his hand to his face, he was astonished when it came away soaked with tears.

Kogure had been right – the choices forced upon them were unfair, and to live with the guilt was a hard thing. And Kaede knew, as he'd always known, that to choose between Kaede and Hisashi was something Kogure just could not do.

He almost forgot to breathe. It was so tempting to just stay frozen there. Just listening, just breathing, feeling as though time had stopped. Clinging to that moment, that hour, that day which belonged at last to Kogure. Wanting it never to end – never to be tomorrow. Wanting never to leave him again. So tempting just to drown.

But…

He'd already made his choice. He forced himself to remember it, and although it was the hardest thing in the world, he turned and ran.

But that sound – loud crack, single gunshot. How strange that such gentleness should leave the world as if slamming the door behind it. The sound of what he loved moving beyond his reach. The final despair, and the final farewell. He'd never forget it. Never.

_Goodbye, Kiminobu._

_3:43pm_

They thundered across the intersection and skidded back onto the correct side of the road. Yohei, Noda and Okusu kept close to them, having a far easier time weaving through the slow traffic than the wide Veyron. Behind them, the Rukawa bike had also increased its pace and was mirroring each of their twists and turns until there was no doubt that it was truly in pursuit.

"I'll go back round and fall in behind him" Okusu spoke through the intercom, his bike thundering alongside Hanamichi's window.

"He won't be alone" Akira cautioned, but Okusu only lifted a gloved hand and flashed a thumbs-up through the window. The next moment he'd pulled off to the side and vanished down another road.

On the other side of the street came the first sudden burst of gunfire. A second bike had appeared there, running counter to the traffic and firing almost blindly at the convoy. Hanamichi immediately snatched up his gun and released an answering hail of bullets through Akira's window. The crack of igniting gunpowder and billowing powdered glass hurt Akira's ears, but he kept himself focused on driving; weaving through the slow moving traffic violently. Several cars had stopped in the road at the sound of gunfire making steering through the obstacles even more difficult.

When a third bike appeared ahead of them, Hanamichi swore loudly. The newcomer released rounds of bullets over his shoulder, many of which burrowed harmlessly into the Veyron's bonnet, although one caught Yohei in the chest, causing him to double over his handlebars with the shock of pain.

"Yohei!" Hanamichi called in alarm through the intercom, seeing the bike wobble and tilt dangerously "Yohei!"

"Sorry… michi… I…"

"Drop back!" Hanamichi's voice was unusually panicked, "Get out of here! Noda, take him home quick."

"No…" Yohei gasped "…have to…"

"Sendoh-sama?" Noda had drawn his speeding bike closer in concern, and Akira remembered that he was the so-called leader of this group. He was supposed to make the decisions.

It was obvious that Yohei could not carry on, but if both Noda and Yohei fell back then he and Hanamichi might be left without any support at all. He narrowed his eyes.

"Do as Hanamichi says" he said finally, and Yohei's weak protests for their safety were ignored as Noda forced him off the main road. "Okusu, where are you?" Akira demanded.

There was no reply.

"Shit."

The Veyron jumped energetically into the gaps that opened in the traffic but was nowhere near as manoeuvrable as the bikes which were constantly behind. Hanamichi was reloading his gun with violent desperation. "We have to get onto the freeway" he exclaimed, "We can't get away from bikes on these city streets."

In agreement Akira turned them towards the major road but the problem, he quickly realised, was that this was the route that the Rukawas have evidently expected them to take. The three riders already keeping pace with them were soon joined by three more, each armed and none apparently concerned about firing upon them despite the highly populated area. The rear window was soon so peppered with holes that it was all but impossible to see out the back.

Akira felt his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. This wasn't good at all.

"They're gaining" Hanamichi commented breathlessly, gun in hand as he looked back over his shoulder, "try to keep her straight on the turns."

"I'm trying" Akira said through gritted teeth as they whirled around another corner, tyres screeching in protest. The finger of the speed dial quivered at the 80 mark. They were travelling at such speed on such congested roads it was difficult to maintain pace; the last thing they needed was to lose control and hit something. Akira couldn't risk going faster, but the bike group was constantly behind them and constantly getting closer.

More experimental shots were fired at the yellow Veyron and Hanamichi and Akira were forced to duck their heads as low as they could. The view was now even more restricted. Akira cursed under his breath. How could he keep this up?

Hanamichi had opened the passenger window and was unloading a continual stream of bullets at the pursuers.

"Don't get yourself hit!" Akira warned him as he yanked the steering wheel to the left, careering unsteadily across the road. It was only a matter of time now before the tyres were hit and they were overtaken. What would happen to them if they were caught? Akira's mind clouded with the dark possibilities. Would they be killed outright, ransomed, even tortured? He shuddered and swung the steering wheel violently to the right to narrowly avoid an emerging lorry. The tyres squealing angrily as he dodged back into the lane.

Through his mounting black thoughts something pervaded: Kaede. Almost like a drug Akira couldn't resist thinking of him, wondering where he was. Had Kaede known about this planned ambush? Was he planning something, or was he unable to help them? If they really were caught, what would Kaede do then? Akira knew that everything was hopelessly uncertain, but there was no one else he could rely on. Everything depended on that boy. Akira gripped the steering wheel tighter and clenched his teeth.

As if in direct response to his thoughts he heard Hanamichi suddenly swear and turned his eyes back to the road. There was a minor street running almost parallel to them and further up it joined the main one they were on. It was little more than a residential lane, but there was another bike there. It was travelling as fast as they were and it took the corner to join the main road just ahead of them at speed. The rider leaned so far to the side in the turn that his knee touched the floor and the machine drifted sideways around the corner. Smoke poured from the screeching types. For a moment Akira was convinced that the bike was going to spin out of control, but somehow the rider managed to straighten the wheels and right himself. Green, with a thin red zig-zag motif. It was Kaede's bike. It was Kaede.

"Fuck! They're still coming!" Hanamichi leaned out of the window again and aimed his gun forwards at the newcomer.

"No!" Akira's voice sounded firmer than he'd imagined himself capable, "Don't shoot."

"What?" Hanamichi looked dubious but he withdrew from the window as instructed.

"Don't have time to explain" Akira continued to struggle with the car.

Ahead of them the single rider turned and looked back at them through the visor of his crash helmet. He stood slightly in his seat to do so. The turning of his head was obviously an acknowledgement or greeting. Akira could almost hear Kaede speaking to him.

_I see you Kaede._ He responded in his mind.

More bullets ploughed into the rear of the car and Akira winced. This was it then. Akira put all his faith into the speeding bike ahead of him. There wasn't any other choice.

Using only one hand to steer the bike Kaede joined Hanamichi in firing back at the pursuers. Akira saw two fall almost immediately, although what with his having to steer simultaneously Kaede's shots seemed less accurate than usual. They careened onwards; Hanamichi kept continually busy with gunfire didn't have any time to question Akira about their unexpected assistant.

The sound of distant sirens joined the chaotic noise of their loud progress through the city. If the police got unnecessarily involved this would become even more complicated. The whole thing was already a nightmare; since Kaede had decided to assist them so openly the complications would be mountainous. How would the Rukawas react to this betrayal? How was Akira supposed to explain it to his own family - assuming, of course, they even managed to survive this situation? It was a completely unpredictable scenario. Akira's brow furrowed with concern – did Kaede hope to deflect to Sendoh? To throw himself on Taoka's mercy? It seemed so unlike him, but Akira couldn't see what else he could possibly have planned what with the current turn of events.

A bullet took out his wing mirror and Akira forced his attention back fully onto the road. All at once a noise like a fog horn pierced the air and he saw with horror a huge petrol tanker emerging at an intersection directly blocking their path ahead. Having seen and heard the fast approaching commotion the driver was already hauling on the breaks, but the behemoth truck was continuing forwards on its own momentum, meter by meter such that the gap through which Akira and Kaede would have to squeeze was smaller by the second.

Akira didn't have time to deliberate on what to do. He put his foot to the floor. The car responded immediately, growling like it had been unleashed and charging onwards with phenomenal pace, desperate to make it through that shrinking space.

Akira felt a thrill of hope. If they could make it through perhaps the tanker would slow down or even stop the Rukawas behind them, allowing them to get away. With that possibility foremost in his mind he leaned forwards in concentration, gripping the wheel of the car tightly, not even blinking as the tanker rushed up upon them.

As they darted through the closing gap, Kaede was riding so close to the car that his knee was actually pressed against the side, but somehow they made it. Akira couldn't resist but to look disbelievingly into the rear-view mirror to see the wheels of the bikes pull to a premature stop on the other side of the truck's barrier. It seemed like luck was truly on their side. He let his breath out in a long rush and felt fully victorious. He exchanged a look of relief with Hanamichi.

"…what's this guy up to now?" Hanamichi queried, turning his eyes out of the window upon Kaede who still rode nearby but unlike them hadn't relaxed at all. In fact, he still had his gun in hand and was aiming back at the blockage with much more care than before. Akira watched at first in curiosity and then in shock as Kaede fired several rounds of bullets back into the side of the tanker, causing liquid petroleum to spew forth onto the road. A final shot to the ground brought up a collection of starry sparks amongst the rising fumes.

"No…" Akira stammered in disbelief as a beautiful blue veil like silk rose from the ground like something living, carried gently on the fuel's vapours.

There was a strange lull, a moment of perfect quiet where Akira's ears were full of gentle humming which seemed to drown out the noise of the Veyron's engine, the distant sirens, screams and commotion. Just a brief moment of respite and then, with undeniable magnificence, in the centre of that crowded and congested intersection, the tanker exploded.

Hanamichi's mouth hung open, "Holy fucking shit" he gasped.

Akira's pulse thumped in his temples. _What- _

The giant sphere of flame billowed outwards, engulfing not only the truck and the bikes but everything, every_one_, around it.

The fire lit Akira's astonished face with a thousand haunted shadows, his eyes disbelieving. _How many people did he just kill?_ He could only be silent in horror. Had he been too naïve? Had he not understood what Masaya had told him, warned him about? Had he not realised just how dangerous Kaede really was?

_This is why he rode so openly with us,_ he realised numbly; _because he never intended to leave any survivors._

"Akira…" Hanamichi's voice was tense, he sounded as shocked as Akira felt "…this guy is…" he looked sideways at his brother. "He's kitsune, isn't he?"

Akira hesitated but then nodded slowly.

"You can't trust him!" Hanamichi exclaimed in anger, "What the hell is wrong with you? Didn't you see what he just did?"

"He's…" Akira began, but trailed into silence when he saw Kaede give a gesture for them to follow him. He felt utterly confused, numb, and strangely angry as if he'd been betrayed. Why had Kaede done it? To take lives so readily was… awful. It wasn't right. They'd been finished. They'd pretty much got away. There had been no cause to… to… he shook his head.

Something seemed… wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it. It was as if there was something he ought to have remembered. Something Kaede had said or done but… he just couldn't work it out. Akira was still overwhelmed by adrenaline following the chase, and emotion following the explosion. He needed to talk to Kaede – he needed some answers from him, to demand why he'd wasted however many lives just for the sake of their own convenience. How could such a thing ever be justified? He'd never felt anything as fierce as the brimming anger that was growing within him now. There seemed to be no reasonable choice except to follow him despite Hanamichi's protests.

Trembling with suppressed emotion he continued to follow Kaede as he led them on through the city, leaving the noise of sirens and mourning behind them.

**Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms!**

After several twists and turns they arrived in Tsuzuki – the disputed territory. Akira saw Kaede turn the green bike into the abandoned Tsuzuki docks and determinedly followed. The docks were comprised of ugly, industrial yet valuable buildings which were the primary reason that the Tsuzuki region was under such fierce contention between the two families. It had the potential to bring in great profit as a lifeline to distant districts in which to push and obtain the contraband upon which both families relied. As it was however the place was long neglected and had fallen into disrepair.

Today as expected the docks were deserted. It didn't look like anyone had been here for a long time. Certainly no one made use of it anymore. There were no barges docked, and the cranes were still and silent in the late afternoon sun. Akira looked up at the steel structures looming imposingly above and felt suddenly very small. They cast sinister stripes of shadow across the ground like the bars of a cage. He shivered involuntarily. The place felt cold and lonely despite the warmth of the day.

Kaede drew up beside one of the rusted-iron warehouses and dropped both feet to the floor. He stretched his arms up in the air as though the ride had cramped his shoulders. Akira, still following along behind, parked his car across at the other side of the clearing alongside an empty storehouse.

"Akira…" Hanamichi gave his brother a hard warning look from the passenger seat of the car "…don't trust him."

Akira looked up again at Kaede's leather-clad figure.

"I understand but… I have to… ask him… why." He explained helplessly, willing Hanamichi to understand.

Steeling himself he opened the car door to step out. Hanamichi, after a moment of hesitation, did the same, keeping a tight hold on his gun and looking around suspiciously.

Akira watched as Kaede dismounted and stretched again, his pale hands going up to tug his helmet off. It was at that moment that he finally realised what had been bugged him since he'd first seen Kaede earlier. With a cool thrill he recalled that Kaede had been steering and shooting with his right hand – the hand that was supposed to have been injured. For a moment he couldn't make sense of it.

Kaede removed his helmet, shook out his hair and lifted his familiar blue eyes to meet Akira's.

But something was wrong.

The blue eyes. The jet black hair. The tall, thin frame. The similarities were endless. But the fact remained that it was not Kaede at all.

Akira stared in shock.

It was Hisashi.

The older Rukawa's face broke out into a grin and he opened his arms in a gesture of welcome.

"Hello, Akira Sendoh."

Akira didn't have time to reply. He might have opened his mouth in astonishment, but at that moment something heavy hit him on the back of the head and he fell face forward onto the gravel, out cold.

**~tbc** (don't hate me!)

* * *

_Angels_ by Within Temptation as Kogure's theme. Oh Kaede, how could you do it? :(

Note: The dream sequence at the opening should have been in the previous chapter – epic doh! I changed my mind about how Kaede should "confess" to Hisashi while writing, but by then it was too late! So sorry – one day I'll go back sort out all the mistakes and inconsistencies in this fic. There are lots!

Please leave review if only to say "I want a happy ending!" "It should have a sad ending!" or "Ending! Thank god it's finally ENDING!"

Just one more chapter to go. Thanks for sticking with this story for so long! You rock.


	12. Chapter 12

_For __**Irrelevancy**__ on account of her overwhelming support and encouragement, for being far too nice and sweet a person to beta-read anything, but mostly for describing the bolded quotations as being "fortune cookie-esque". Because that's just awesome._

**A Romeo and Juliet Story**

**Chapter 12**

_**Warning: **__blood, violence and death to rival the average self-respecting Shakespearian tragedy._

Akira blinked reluctantly back into consciousness. The first thing he was aware of was the cold. A chill seemed to have crept through him and penetrated his very bones during the time he'd been unconscious. The concrete floor was cruel to him, pressing mercilessly against his cramped and aching body with an unprecedented degree of discomfort. Nearby he saw Hanamichi's eyes open and bright and fixed on him, alive with fast thoughts and schemes of escape. He pursed his lips in hush, to warn Akira not to speak.

They'd been brought inside one of the concrete warehouses which populated the docks. A typical lofty ceiling was angular over high and tiny windows so caked with grime that nothing but the most meagre light came through. They lay in an empty, open area at the front end of the building, the rest of the huge warehouse cavity stacked high with gigantic shipping containers, rusted doors swinging to reveal empty cold interiors. Dark corridors were formed between the stacks like an eerie metal maze. The place was barren and bleak and cold.

Akira could see that Hanamichi had his wrists and ankles bound with plastic wire ties and from the feel of it so did he. It was so painfully uncomfortable that he almost wished he were still unconscious. And yet he was surprisingly calm. He felt a little sick, due no doubt to the blow he'd received to his head, but he felt no panic. No need to struggle at his binds or lose himself in the adrenaline of fright. Instead he felt curiously resigned. He knew that if this was the place that he would die, he could meet that death without fear. But something else was bothering him. Even though Hanamichi was there, inches away so that he ought to have been able to draw strength and courage from him, Akira had never felt so alienated, so alone. The only one who knew. The only one who would ever know. If he died here in silence by Hisashi's hand it would be such an imbalance. Where was his great fight? Where was Kaede by his side, cold and dangerous and perfect? How inequitable, he mused, that in the end he would be killed simply for being a Sendoh, and not for being Kaede's lover. How ironic. How unfair.

Finally he became aware of the noises; the shuffling and breathing that came from somewhere behind him, beyond the range of his vision, and realised that he and Hanamichi were not alone in this sorry place.

"I still don't get it." It was man's voice Akira didn't recognise, sounding both annoyed and bored, "why can't we just kill them?"

"Shut up, Ryu," that seemed to be Hisashi. "We can kill Sendohs every fucking day, but this opportunity is one in a million."

There followed a baited silence in which Akira exchanged a glance with Hanamichi. If they hadn't been brought here to be killed, what else could Hisashi intend? What opportunity was he referring to? Though he held it back as best he could, something a little more like fear crept irresistibly into Akira's chest. Death was predictable, made sense, could be prepared for. The unknown was decidedly harder to submit himself to.

A rustle of clothes sounded as someone stood up and began to pace across the floor, shoes making heavy footsteps in the dust and dirt. Hisashi's feet crossed into Akira's line of sight and the Rukawa heir stopped, facing the nearby wall as if contemplating it.

Akira felt a sudden and unsettling anger looking at Kaede's brother: the familiar tousle of unruly black hair, the pale and almost regal complexion and, most tellingly of all, the foreign blue eyes. Such similarity that only heightened their irreconcilable difference. One a master of the house and the other only a slave to it.

"I've already told you what to do" Hisashi said firmly over his shoulder in a voice that brooked no argument; in the low and competent gruffness of a man who owned the world.

There was silence until a third voice which Akira recognised as Tetsuo's asked, "Do you really think we can do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know…" he dropped his voice as if it were a terrible secret, "…kill Kaede?"

Akira felt the full sensation of dread as if some terrible creature had wrapped itself in crushing black coils around his chest. Yes, he realised, Hisashi _did_ know about his relationship to Kaede (he recalled now that Hisashi had even lured them by pretending to be him) but no, he wasn't here to be killed. He wouldn't be afforded any such dignity. Instead he was here as some kind of bait. Just a maggot wiggling on the end of a line. A cursed and useless thing to hurry not only his own demise, but that of the one he wanted to protect.

Why Hisashi wanted to kill Kaede he didn't know, but still he pleaded with whatever gods might be up there and listening: _Please don't let him come_, already knowing it was a futile wish. Knowing that it was all too inevitable.

**Oh, I am fortune's fool!**

Hisashi turned around crisply to face his two subordinates. "Just do as I told you and this will be easy" he said confidently.

"That isn't what I meant" Tetsuo said, defending himself from the implied jibe with his most dismissive and brusque voice, "I meant the family isn't going to like this right? I don't want to lose my fingers over this you know."

Hisashi gave a dismissive shrug. "It's just a game. We are both playing by the same rules." His eyes moved over to where Akira and Hanamichi were lying. Akira, too slow to close his eyelids, found himself unexpectedly meeting Hisashi's stare across the cold air. Two heirs from two great houses stood on opposite sides of an unfathomable divide. Hisashi's smile widened and, knowing it was too late to still pretend to be unconscious, Akira looked straight back at him. "The reason I can kill Kaede is right here." Hisashi explained with a sneer, not breaking their eye contact.

_Worse than a worm_ Akira realised with recoiling horror which he valiantly managed to keep from showing in his face. He wasn't only acting as bait; he was being condemned to be Hisashi's own shield. He was the means with which Hisashi would denounce Kaede as some kind of traitor and so protect himself from the otherwise certain animosity of his own house. As Tetsuo had rightly deduced one couldn't simply kill their own allies recklessly. To kill Kaede would be for Hisashi to write his own death warrant unless he could prove that Kaede were a traitor or a threat to the family which, in the most unjust sense imaginable, Akira supposed he was. Though it seemed awful to think it, like the world had turned so deceitfully upside-down, the truth really was so unfairly on Hisashi's side.

Tetsuo had paused in thought as he puzzled this out. "So, you mean… if Kaede is really a traitor, the family won't mind?"

Hisashi tipped his chin in off-handed confirmation, his eyes still fixed on Akira's, "Something like that. What do _you_ think, Sendoh_-sama_?"

**There's no trust, no faith, no honesty in men.**

Somewhere behind him Tetsuo and Ryu moved in surprise, not having realised that he was awake, but Akira was only focused on Hisashi who stood so easy and aloof some feet away from him. Akira didn't speak, only narrowing his eyes, furious that he had fallen so easily into Hisashi's plans. Furious that he might be the cause of Kaede's downfall.

Hisashi tilted his head, smirked infuriatingly and, with the grating noise of gravel under his soles, began to approach. Akira immediately felt his entire body tense up but did not look away or let his eyes flicker for even a moment. He could not afford to show any weakness in front of this man, even though he knew he was already caught, a fly in a spider's web.

Hisashi stopped, the toes of his boots inches from Akira's nose so that Akira could see the rough texture of the leather and every fleck of dirt that sullied them. Without further words Hisashi reached down and grabbed a fistful of Akira's hair, yanking his head up roughly to expose his throat, pulling his shoulders fully up off the ground. Akira winced and squeezed his eyes tight against the force of tearing hair. With his wrists bound behind him, he had no way to support his weight.

"You'll explain to them for me, right?" Hisashi mocked in a disturbingly friendly voice, "Tell them what a dirty little whore Kaede has been?"

"Fuck… you." Akira gasped brokenly in reply.

"But Kaede will already be dead" Hisashi pointed out sweetly, "there'd be no point in prolonging your own death by refusing to cooperate with me."

"Get the fuck off" Hanamichi snarled from where he lay nearby, struggling against his binds and attempting to lunge towards Hisashi. A wave of remorse passed through Akira when he remembered that Hanamichi didn't know – hadn't any idea how much he and Kaede had risked, how much of this situation was Akira's own foolish fault – but that he too would be caught up in their fall.

Hisashi contemplated Hanamichi's struggles for a moment, the mock sweetness dissolving from his face, and then coolly and without warning jerked his arm and pitched Akira face-first into the floor. There was a nauseating crack and the hot sensation of blood as his nose smashed against the concrete. Akira gasped. The pain was so sudden and blinding that he couldn't help but twist his body with agony, struggling against the binds at his wrists in a reflexive effort to bring his hands to his wounded face.

Hisashi stood and dusted imaginary dirt from his coat as Tetsuo and Ryu immediately hurried over to have a look at the spectacle.

"Awesome" Ryu grinned, putting his foot against Akira's shoulder and forcing him onto his back. He stared in sick fascination at the rivulets of blood that quickly filled the lines in his agonised face, tracing the sticky shiny trails of violence with blood-lusty eyes. His features twisted into a grin, but the result looked more soiled than happy, his foul smile like broken glass.

Beside him, Tetsuo dropped to a crouch and seized a fistful of Akira's shirt, pulling him upwards. Akira choked on the blood that had pooled in his mouth but managed to meet Tetsuo's eyes defiantly.

"You've fucked him, haven't you?" Tetsuo demanded "Kaede-sama, I mean. What's it like? What's it like to make him scream?"

Despite the pain of his broken nose, Akira found his muscles still had enough mobility to spew a glob of blood and spit right into Tetsuo's eye. The man immediately released him in disgust, sleeve going up to wipe at his face, and this time it was the back of Akira's head that hit the concrete.

**Oh, where is Romeo? – saw you him today?**

**Right glad am I he was not at this fray.**

Akira lay dazed in a hazy world of sweltering pain, hearing the vague noises of Tetsuo's outrage and Ryu's amusement. He felt someone stomp on his unprotected stomach and his body responded reflexively, coughing and spluttering, but then there followed long moments of blankness, as if the information from his eyes and ears was simply not reaching his brain. Tiny flecks of white light flickered on the edge of his blackened vision, and then all at once he realised that Tetsuo and Ryu had gone, and there was only Hisashi standing nearby, and the atmosphere had changed. Changed so tangibly that he could almost taste it.

He waited, confused and apprehensive. The injured nerves in his face clammered furiously for his attention but outside of his own pain, nothing else seemed to be happening. Finally Akira let his head fall to the side, looking towards the source of the change, simultaneously welcoming and dreading it.

His figure in the doorway was a shadow, lithe and formless and curling black like smoke, blocking out the late afternoon sun like an eclipse. The bright outside light coupled with the blood that ran into Akira's eyes and the concussion that muffled him, made it safe to say that if he hadn't already known who it was, he wouldn't have been able to tell. And yet he knew. Of course he knew.

A shameful part of him stupidly didn't want Kaede to see him like this – helpless on the ground at Hisashi's feet, bloody and beaten. But an even more shameful part of him was afraid. Not of Hisashi or Tetsuo or Ryu. No – he was suddenly afraid of Kaede. Afraid of an unleashed kitsune and what destruction he might herald.

Because Akira suddenly knew what Hisashi had meant by _playing by the same rules_. Because all at once he realised that if Kaede killed Hisashi, the House of Rukawa would destroy him.

**Part fools! **

**Put up your swords; you know not what you do.**

Akira wanted to tell him to stop. To make him realise that his future, his _soul_, was worth so much more than their lives. That he shouldn't sell himself so cheaply, like a whore to blood and death. But his breath failed him and the only sound was the emotionless click of a cocked gun. And his eyes… Akira caught sight of those clouded windows and felt a dark dread. Empty. Soulless. Almost…

…inhuman.

This wasn't Kaede, he realised numbly. At least, not as he'd ever known him before. The boy who'd shivered and gasped and opened like a flower under his touch was little but a distant recollection. Barely a shred of him was left in those eyes. No. Akira was looking into the eyes of a killer, so long steeped in blood-rage and his own soul shattered agony that he was almost animal in his stare. Placed beside this overwhelming blackness, Ryu's little sadistic whims would seem like the innocent play of a child.

No, this wasn't Kaede. This was the night hunter. This was the _fox_.

Hisashi was still for a second taking careful measure of his brother, then he reached down and pulled Hanamichi up to his feet by the collar, showing surprising strength considering that he was shorter and slimmer than his charge, and with an arm around Hanamichi's throat, pressed a gun barrel to the red hair.

"Don't come closer or I'll kill him?" he offered in a voice of lilting parody as if it were all an amusing joke.

Kaede moved deliberately forwards, his heels clicking on the concrete with each stride, familiar long coat lifting gently like a echo of his movements. His expression and his eyes remained empty, totally unimpassioned by anger or emotion. That awful and ruthless detachment that marked him at his most terrifying, his most dangerous. "So kill him" he replied, "the redhead means nothing to me."

"B… bastard fox!" Hanamichi managed to bellow around Hisashi's constricting arm.

Hisashi blanked for only a second before his insatiable grin returned, "oh really? But I thought you were a Sendoh now?"

Kaede stopped, and the hem of the coat fell back towards the ground. "Not at all."

"Right, right" Hisashi nodded mockingly, and Akira couldn't understand how he could be so immune to the petrifying effect of Kaede's unblinking stare. Surely anyone with sense would flee before this vision of terror.

However, seemingly unconcerned, Hisashi dropped the now irrelevant Hanamichi again so he fell to the floor with a grunt. "That's good" he continued brazenly, "because I'm sure I remember that you swore to kill Taoka Sendoh yourself. You didn't forget about that, did you?"

There was a brief pause while Kaede watched him coldly "I didn't forget."

Hisashi considered this for a moment, and then sneered. "And I suppose" he began, "you expect me to believe that selling your body to these dogs was simply an attempt to get closer to Taoka?"

For the first time the corners of Kaede's lips lifted in dark humour and if anything he became more dreadful than ever.

"I don't give a fuck what you believe."

**Let them measure us by what they will.**

Despite obvious danger, Hisashi did not back down. "You're acting very strangely Kaede" he pointed out almost conversationally instead, smiling provokingly.

Kaede did not respond, gun still gripped and pointed in his direction, hammer cocked, unfired.

"If you're always so efficient, so fucking business-like" Hisashi continued boldly, triumphantly, as if laying down his perfect hand, "why haven't you killed me yet?"

Akira blinked and looked quickly towards Kaede. There was no discomfort in Kaede's features, no reaction at all in fact, and yet it suddenly seemed to Akira that Hisashi's words rang strangely true. _Was_ there something odd in Kaede's well-concealed hesitation? It didn't seem as if any kind of sentiment for his brother's life would cause Kaede to delay but why, then, what was he waiting for? Had he realised that he couldn't afford to kill Hisashi without some kind of alibi?

"Lacking confidence in your left hand?" Hisashi suggested innocently, although not able to keep the smirk of triumph from his lips.

And at that Kaede finally blinked, his features flickering out of composure for barely a second, but both Hisashi and Akira saw it, one with glee and one with concern. Akira had forgotten entirely about Kaede's handicap. Without the use of his right hand, how much had his skill diminished?

"Come on" Hisashi goaded, spreading his arms wide in a blatant invitation for Kaede to take a shot, and although Kaede narrowed his eyes dangerously, to Akira's dismay he made no move. Hisashi's impudent confidence even in the face of Kaede's fiercest front suddenly made unfortunate sense. It seemed almost ironic that Kaede's own hesitation served to prove that he was no longer the threat he had once been. The air was suddenly almost too tense to bear. Akira had no idea what Kaede planned to do.

"This isn't much of a trap Kaede" Hisashi continued smugly, dropping his arms back to his sides with a flump. "I mean, you set this up just to be thwarted by my lucky foresight to remove two of your fingers? How short-sighted of you."

Akira's eyebrows furrowed at that, uncomprehending.

"What?" Hisashi was still smirking, "Did you think I was as stupid as these brainless morons? I _know_ that this whole thing is your setup. You went and fucking gave me the alibi I'd been waiting for for years, _gift-wrapped_ the means to kill you. You could have kept your sick little alliance secret for years if you'd actually wanted to. But you didn't. So tell me Kaede, what exactly do you hope to gain by luring me here like this?"

Akira, who could make no sense of the sudden turn in the conversation, turned puzzled eyes upon Kaede's still silent figure. If he had hoped for comfort, acknowledgment, explanation, he was disappointed. He knew that Kaede hadn't spared him a glance since he'd arrived, and what he saw now was not the thawing boy who he called his lover but someone impossibly cold and hard, distant and cruel, still and dark and utterly flawless. It seemed clearer than ever that the Kaede he knew was far beyond his reach, and that more was going on here than Akira had first realised. He hung on Kaede's next words in a kind of stupefied astonishment.

"The house" Kaede replied simply. "I want the house."

**O, that deceit should dwell**

**In such a gorgeous place.**

Hanamichi sent Akira a look, but Akira didn't see. He didn't see anything. Nothing was making sense.

Hisashi was also staring in some bemusement. "The house?" he echoed, and then laughed. "You're fucking joking right? Don't get ahead of yourself. Even if you still had enough skill to kill me – which you don't – and even if you'd somehow found a way to trick father into believing your innocence – which you haven't – you're _still_ fucking disinherited, remember? You're not in the fucking line anymore Kaede, did you forget? The house will never be yours."

"You're wrong" Kaede replied with blunt simplicity.

Hisashi stared at him, perhaps waiting for more, but no explanation was forthcoming. Kaede remained frustratingly silent and unmoved. Hisashi's shoulders heaved in annoyance.

"Well, whatever. Carry on with your fucking delusions, but why you thought you could use a couple of fucking Sendohs to… "

He stopped abruptly. The shrill ring of a cell phone emanated from his jean pocket. He watched his brother suspiciously for a moment, until Kaede shrugged slightly and lowered his gun as if in some kind of gentlemen's agreement. Hisashi's eyes remained tight and wary but he brought the phone out and glanced down at the name on the display, eyebrows creasing in irritation, before bringing it up to his ear.

"What?" he barked into it.

He listened down the line, and as he did so the muscles in his face gradually began to twitch and move in tiny irritate movements in response to the news he was hearing. Kaede remained blank-faced, but Akira watched the clouds descending on Hisashi's face with both curiosity and concern.

"When did you find…?" Hisashi asked into the handset, his voice a little bit smaller than before. The answer must have come immediately because he listened intently, and then slowly closed his eyes as if processing the news numbly.

"I'm at the docks in Tsuzuki" he said finally. "Yes, Kaede too. Yes, send a car…" his eyes lifted and fixed on his brother, "…I'll need one. Yes, that's right. Thirty minutes. Fine."

He pressed the disengage button without taking his eyes off Kaede. Seconds ticked past with unbelievable slowness.

**A plague upon both your houses.**

"He's dead." Hisashi said finally, his voice dry and angry. "Shot." He began to pace back and forth across the floor. "Akagi said it looks like suicide."

"Who's dead?" Hanamichi demanded.

Hisashi stopped and stared searchingly at Kaede across the cold air of the warehouse. It seemed to Akira as if they both understood something, shared something, and he was sure for a moment, absolutely sure, that Kaede already knew the answer. But he must have been mistaken because Hisashi gave a bitter smile and his next words changed everything.

"Kiminobu" he said.

_What-?_ Akira's eyes flew to Kaede to see his reaction even as his own lips formed the shape of a horrified "no". Kogure… dead? Couldn't be. Surely it was a cruel joke. _Don't believe it_.

But in Kaede something had changed. Something in his expression had cracked. It was as if the news were a whip that had caught and snapped at the lion he was so that the fearsome creature cowered back, and what remained was so vulnerable and so scarred a simple blow might break it. Behind his eyes, Akira saw with horror, his world had shattered. And as Akira watched in disbelief, Kaede's wrist slackened in shock. With a peculiar slowness his gun loosened in his grasp and began to fall gently towards the floor, making elegant spirals in the air as it tumbled. And that brief moment, that smallest lapse in focus, was all Tetsuo and Ryu had been waiting for.

They appeared out of nowhere from between the metal crates, running at full tilt, their intention quite clearly to crash bodily into Kaede even as he stood still and shocked with the news. Not caring about anything except the impending disaster, seeing so clearly what was about to happen, Akira screamed his name with every scrap of breath his pained body could produce.

Hearing him, Kaede looked up numbly to see his fast-approaching assailants.

_He's got time to react!_ Akira realised in relief, but even as he counted on it, Kaede didn't move. In those few seconds it was as if he just wasn't there at all – as if the shock of Kogure's death had wiped him utterly blank, he was somehow no longer himself. It was as if a part of him had died too.

"Kaede!" Akira screamed again.

**Tis in vain to seek him that means not to be found.**

Tetsuo was larger, heavier and stronger than Kaede and the force of the collision was bone-shattering. Akira winced as Kaede was knocked off his feet as if he were nothing more than a rag doll and slammed violently against the wall. The iron structure echoed angrily with the boom of the impact.

Tetsuo wrapped his large hands around Kaede's throat and with both arms managed to lift him fully off the ground, pinning him against the wall. Kaede immediately choked and struggled against his grip, hands going up to claw at the fists tight around his neck like a snared animal. Ryu was at once beside them, gun in hand.

"Do it" Tetsuo grunted, using all his might to keep Kaede trapped. Ryu readied the gun and for a moment Akira was convinced that they were going to simply kill him point blank. But when Ryu fired the bullet, it was directed not to Kaede's head or chest, but to his knee.

The sound Kaede made couldn't really be described as a scream. He managed to choke it back but still the pain in the noise was unmistakable. His body tensed for a moment, frozen by the pain, but then his struggles against Tetsuo renewed and increased in intensity and he kicked out at Ryu with his remaining good leg but couldn't reach.

"You know" Ryu said conversationally, "they always say that the knee is the most painful place to get shot."

"Really?" Tetsuo grunted, "I thought it was the stomach?"

"Oh shit really?" Ryu grinned, "My bad."

Akira didn't have time to close his eyes before another shot sounded and another bullet lodged itself this time into Kaede's gut. His body twitched and jerked involuntarily in response, but he made no noise other than a grunt. Blood rapidly expanded out of the wounds, saturating the fibres of his clothes and dripping ominously from the tips of his shoes. The combination of restricted air, blood loss and pain weakened him so rapidly that Tetsuo soon released him. He dropped to the floor but his legs were no longer capable of supporting him and he collapsed at Tetsuo's feet clutching his wounded stomach.

"And this is the feared _kitsune_?" Ryu asked disgustedly, putting his foot flat against Kaede's chest and shoving him forcefully back against the wall. Kaede's hands went up to grip the offending ankle as if to push it away, but he had no strength to do so.

"Fucking pathetic" Ryu seethed, and spat down on him. Lost in his pain Kaede didn't seem to even notice the mockery.

**These violent delights have violent ends.**

Akira was struggling desperately against his binds, not caring whether or not Hisashi saw his panic and desperation. He couldn't allow this to happen. He couldn't witness this and do nothing. Kaede needed him. Hadn't he sworn to never again allow himself to fail? Hadn't he chosen this path himself? Wasn't he stronger than this? Then why? - why!

Despite his frantic rocking and struggling, neither his wrists nor his ankles loosened and eventually he was forced to cease his fruitless efforts, breathing heavily, frustrated tears blinding him.

"Fuck" he gasped into the dirt, desperate and crushed by his own powerlessness.

When he lifted his head again it was in time to see Ryu lift a knife to Kaede's lips who in turn glared at him in helpless wounded fury.

"Let's make him a smiler" Ryu commented with a cruel smirk as if he found the idea suitably ironic. He turned the blade to press against the inside corner of Kaede's mouth and Kaede's fists clenched as he struggled to move away, but couldn't escape Ryu's hand which clenched in his hair and pulled his head back. Already racked with the agony from his stomach and knee Kaede closed his eyes, too weak to defend himself even as the knife slid slowly into his cheek, parting skin and nerves, drawing so many perfect berries of red blood on porcelain skin. He accepted the pain and mockery with exhaustion. It was as if he'd given up; all his fire gone.

**I have lost myself; I am not here;**

**This is not Romeo, he's some other where.**

Akira was sure he would lose his mind. He hadn't been under any illusions – he had known all along that death was something that would probably come to both of them. But this? This_?_ Kaede – so proud and so strong - broken in this way? Akira wanted to scream. He couldn't endure it.

So he closed his eyes. He was pathetic, he knew, but he just couldn't watch. He couldn't bear to see it. It seemed like all his strength had gone out of him, leaving him empty and drained. All the ferocity he'd called up in his determination to defy the houses, even his will to live, everything he was felt like it was being slowly squeezed out of him, as if he were being strangled by his own miserable fate. Forced to lie helpless and useless, unable to relieve any inch of Kaede's agony while he himself was cruelly preserved. Totally disregarded and abandoned to his own terrible demons. And in those black moments, face down in the dirt, knowing that there was no escape and no salvation, that Kaede was going to die painfully right before his eyes, for the first time in his life he knew what it was to despair. For the first time, he wanted just to die.

**Under love's heavy burden do I sink.**

As if in response to his thoughts, an angry angular foot kicked him over onto his back and the cool ring of a gun barrel pressed against his forehead. He opened his eyes and saw Hisashi looking down on him, eyes red and wild and disgusted.

"Want me to end your misery?" he sneered.

In shame Akira couldn't meet his stare. Instead his eyes roamed up to focus on the deadly piece of metal which mocked him with the release he so desired – the gun that might, with any luck, claim his life. Such a marvel of engineering – elegant, iconic and beautiful. And he saw there the now-familiar engravings – six foxes dancing, turning, jumping merrily like something out of a fable. It was Kaede's gun he realised numbly. Hisashi must have picked it up from the floor where Kaede had dropped it. The irony tasted bitter, one last merciless twist at his heart. It was only foolish sentiment he knew. Being shot with any gun amounted to the same thing, but somehow knowing that this was the gun he's held in his hand in Odawa and with which he'd taken those first tentative steps with Kaede so many months ago just made everything seem that much more senseless. Just that little bit worse.

Hisashi, no doubt aware of the irony, cocked the hammer purposefully. Akira let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes again, knowing that he was lost. Ashamed yet alarmingly grateful that his death would be so easy.

"You can't kill him – you said you needed him!" Hanamichi protested anxiously, eyes wide at the sight of the gun threatening his brother's life.

Hisashi gave a shrug. "Kiminobu is dead" he said as if it explained everything.

"So you're just gonna throw everything away?" Hanamichi continued passionately, his voice quick with panic, but Hisashi ignored him.

_So they are similar after all,_ Akira realised sorrowfully. _For Kogure Kiminobu they both give up their lives_.

"Kill me instead!" Hanamichi continued desperately. "I've been your enemy for years. Akira has nothing to do with anything!"

"No." Hisashi replied bluntly. "I intend to cause my brother as much fucking misery as possible. So, _good night,_ Akira Sendoh."

And with that, at point-blank range, he pulled the trigger.

**The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love.**

In your final moment – those last precious seconds – where do you put your faith? In god? In yourself? In the people with whom you share your life? Who do you look to to save you when you are beyond saving? Where does your faith lie? Perhaps the most vicious truth is that you'll only find out what resides in the depths of your soul at the very same moment that you lose it. At least – that's how it seemed to Akira then.

And he wondered… if he had known when he'd woken up that this would be the day he died, would he have done anything differently? If he had known that his death would serve no purpose except to cause torment to the one he loved, would he still have fallen in love with him? If he had thought he could have saved Kaede from even one second of pain, would he still have chosen this path, this fate?

**I dreamt a dream tonight.**

**And so did I!**

**Well, what was yours?**

**That dreamers often lie.**

The sound that filled his ears in that last moment was not the echoing bang of gunpowder, but a song. A sweet noise, worlds removed from anything he'd ever heard before. Something primal and terrible but nonetheless beautiful which caused his blood to stir and rise as if to meet it lovingly. The sound of speeding death. Natural, yet entirely alien. Music at once so victorious and so very sad.

Blood gushed down his neck and over his body, hot. It felt so hot, like scalding water against his skin. The gun too dropped down beside him – blood collecting rapidly like little pools in the engraved lines, drenching those childish foxes in their favourite honey, making them shine and laugh with red violence. He felt his body crushed against the floor and there he lay, still and silent in a rapidly expanding lake of dark blood.

And then, after a long and confused moment, he opened his eyes.

**His name is Romeo, and a Montague;**

**The only son of your great enemy.**

Hisashi had crumpled where he stood, collapsing forwards onto Akira, crushing him. Something had burst forth from his throat like a strange silver flower. Akira couldn't make out what that odd projection was for a moment, until he realised that he was staring at the tip of a blade which had entered Hisashi's neck from the back.

He lay silent in a dazed confusion for a moment before struggling to lift his head and look towards where he'd last seen his lover at the mercy of Tetsuo and Ryu's whims. And there he stared.

Kaede had managed to stand only by climbing up the wall, the knife in his right hand stabbed right through the metal sheet to form a handhold by which he was supporting the majority of his weight. His left hand was still extended forwards in the elegant attitude of the second knife which he'd thrown. At his feet, returned to their rightful places, Tetsuo and Ryu gazed up at him adoringly, their eyes wide with wonder, their throats ripped out.

And there he stood, bloody and terrible, the only one among the carnage he himself had reaped, as he had always reaped. Creature of war, creature of destruction. The ever-venerated god of death.

And all at once Akira realised Hisashi's mistake. All at once he knew that the ten centimetres of throat into which the knife had slicked itself like a lover were nine more than Kaede had needed. Because he realised, as he should have known all along, and as Hisashi had foolishly forgotten, that Kaede's left hand was just as accurate as his right.

It came to him in the strangest of sensations like a rapidly clearing fog; the memory of a bullet sailing past his ear and slamming into the headrest, and the almost forgotten words of the doctor Ishizuka two months before: _Nineteen shot from his right hand, and a further seven from his left_. Such skill should never have been in doubt.

But was this victory?

Kaede had held the trump card all along, so why had he allowed Ryu and Tetsuo to hurt him so grievously? Akira couldn't for the moment understand. He opened his mouth as if to ask, only to see Kaede shake his head as if trying to clear it, seemingly confused as he swayed, teetering on the brink of consciousness, and then he crashed heavily to the floor – exhausted, unconscious or dead, Akira had no idea.

"Kaede!" he gasped, and immediately renewed his frantic struggle against his binds, only to find to his despair that they held just as fast as before.

**I defy you, stars!**

"For fuck's sake, stop it!" Hanamichi reprimanded after a moment of watching his panicked jerking and writhing.

"Can't…" Akira gasped, "…have to…"

"Are you stupid?" Hanamichi exclaimed in aspiration, "Don't you realise he threw you a fucking knife?"

Akira stilled, breathing heavily, trying to control his state of panic.

"Can you reach it?" he asked after a moment.

"Wait…" Hanamichi wriggled and rocked himself closer, seeking blindly with his hands behind his back for the knife that still protruded from the hole in the back of Hisashi's neck. Ignoring his disgust, hands clenching and unclenching in the cooling liquid gore that dribbled from the gash, Hanamichi managed to wrench it free and set about trying awkwardly to cut blindly through the ties that held Akira's wrists.

After a couple of frustrating minutes of effort which felt hopelessly longer, the plastic finally gave way and Akira succeeded in wrenching himself free. He paused only long enough to return the favour to Hanamichi before hurrying upright, only to collapse again due to the immediate and terrible cramps in his legs. He half stumbled and half fell to Kaede's side.

"Kaede!" he gasped, clutching his shoulders and moving him carefully onto his back. Kaede winced in pain, his eyes creased with the effort of clinging to consciousness, one hand still clutching his wounded stomach.

"You must go" he said weakly.

"I can't leave you like this – you need a goddamn doctor! At least let me…"

"The house…" Kaede interrupted, pausing to breath unsteadily before continuing, "…will be here soon. Don't… get yourself… caught. I can't… do any more than… this."

Akira shook his head to refuse. He couldn't for a second entertain the notion of abandoning Kaede in such a state and besides, he had thousands of questions and, judging from the fading light in Kaede's eyes, not enough time to ask them all.

Kaede reached out and grasped Akira's arm tightly, causing him to still. "I won't die" he answered the unasked question with extraordinary bluntness, looking up into Akira's bloody and still panicked expression, "wound like this…" he looked dazedly down at his bloodied hand that covered the bullet hole, "missed the… liver… so… would take… ten hours or… so to… kill." He sighed tiredly. "Those… idiots." He winced.

Akira let out an exhausted sigh, wondering vaguely whether he was meant to laugh or despair, and dropped his head to Kaede's chest, noting how unsteady his breathing was.

**Deny thy father, and refuse thy name.**

"It was you" he whispered after a moment, "you told Hisashi about us."

Kaede nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Then is it true that you planned this just so you might inherit your house?" Akira was unable to keep the blot of accusation out of his voice despite his best efforts.

Kaede frowned slightly. "Akira…" his voice was softer and weaker by the second "…did you ever think about… ending the… rivalry?"

Akira froze and then lifted his head in surprise. The words were familiar. Of course they were. They were a repetition of his own naïve blatherings uttered that night high above Yokohama. The first reluctant understanding of Kaede's intentions crept into his mind, though he found himself awed into disbelief by the sheer scale and ambition of them.

"You plan to unite the houses?" he queried in astonishment.

Kaede looked up at him, "Is it… possible?"

Akira closed his eyes and squeezed Kaede's hand. He couldn't even begin to answer such a question, so instead he responded with one of his own: "will your father really recognise you as heir?"

"He'll have no other… choice. I'm the… only one the bloodline is… more important than… reputation but…" he took an unsteady breath, "you must say… it was you who… did this."

Akira lifted his head to survey carnage grimly, "Claim that I killed three Rukawas?"

"Four." Kaede corrected, gesturing weakly to himself.

Akira closed his eyes. "No one would believe that."

"They must."

Looking down into Kaede's eyes, Akira found them as determined and sure as ever, hard and uncompromising despite the blood that pooled about him, the pain and faintness he must have been feeling, the horrifying rip in his cheek that opened and tore with every word he managed to utter but to which he paid no more attention than to a buzzing fly.

"When will I see you again?" Akira demanded finally, already knowing the answer, already knowing what they had to do but almost masochistic in his desire to have it confirmed. He could feel hot tears gathering under his eye lashes but was determined not to let them fall, knowing that despite his seeming fierceness, Kaede's will was wholly dependant on Akira's own strength. That it was in the end only Akira's hand in his that was keeping him from falling apart.

"The next time we meet" Kaede promised softly, "I will throw the house of Rukawa at your feet."

Akira squeezed his hand tightly. He understood what had been done and how much they were both gambling on. He could see that the odds were already ridiculously small and that this was a last desperate lunge for them, an all or nothing shot. They had no choice but to wait until they each had control over their own houses before they could make any kind of move towards a future which they might share.

But only one thing was truly certain: if their relationship was ever discovered, this would all have been for nothing. Risks could no longer be chanced. To succeed they would have to bury their love way, way down and not touch it. Keep it like a small and dangerous secret hidden within each of them. Become enemies once more for the sake of a day when they could meet again as allies.

If they could achieve it, it truly would be glorious. There was no doubt of that. And yet finally Akira couldn't help the tears that fell. The coldness he felt before so many empty tomorrows that seemed to stretch out black and forbidding and lonely before him.

His breath became short as he clung to Kaede's broken and beaten body, both of them drenched in the misery of blood and parting, the realisations firmer and more awful in his mind every second.

Knowing that, in the end, it could be _years_ before they would see each other again.

Kaede's grip on his arm weakened perceptibly. "The east" he murmured, so quietly that Akira had to bend closer to hear him. As he neared, Kaede's hand lifted and he brushed his three remaining fingers across Akira's cheek lovingly, "and the sun."

Akira caught the hand and held it tightly, desperate to draw out these last few seconds before the plunging night was upon them once again. He wanted to reply. Wanted to scream. Wanted to yell that he didn't care. The rivalry, the houses, none of it mattered to him. All he wanted was Kaede at his side – as his companion, as his lover, never to be apart.

But Kaede's eyes had already slid closed and consciousness had silently left him, stealing away peaceful and unnoticed in his usual quiet way. He hadn't said goodbye, but then again it wasn't a goodbye, not really. Still, it felt like one.

**Can I go forward when my heart is here?**

Akira buried his face in the cool neck and took as long a breath as he could, inhaling Kaede's scent like it was a breath of oxygen even though he knew it could never last him. Even though he would be long starved of it well before the end.

He lifted his eyes and they came to rest on the bloodied kitsune-engraved gun which had fallen from Hisashi's hand. He stared at it for a long moment, and Hanamichi, who had been standing respectfully a little way away, went over to pick it up off the floor.

"I thought I'd lost you" Hanamichi admitted quietly, handling the deadly thing carefully, running his fingers across the engravings. "I really thought he pulled the trigger."

"He did" Akira recalled numbly, still clinging to Kaede's limp hand. "He _did_ pull the trigger."

Hanamichi looked up and met his eyes in confusion. "But then… how..?" he trailed off and looked down at the gun again. His questing fingers squeezed the release for the cartridge, and it fell to the floor, releasing a load of tiny pebbles across the concrete in a pattering rush, forming a small splash gravel on the floor. Both Hanamichi and Akira stared in astonishment for a moment.

It was Hanamichi who broke the silence. "It was unloaded" he muttered in a bated hush. "The whole time, he never fired it because there were no bullets in it. He weighted it so Hisashi wouldn't realise."

"He dropped it on purpose too" Akira recalled the moment. "He already knew Kogure was dead."

Hanamichi looked over at him, eyes wide. "He planned this whole thing. He knew it would end this way."

Akira wet his lips. "Seems like it."

"He even let them beat him up because he intended to frame us for this. Make it look as if he was on Hisashi's side all along and that we were the ones who attacked and killed them. The fact that he might survive will just be put down as a lucky fluke. His injuries are bad enough that we'd leave him for dead, that's for sure."

Akira looked down at Kaede's face, and for the first time since the ordeal began he found himself smiling in simple awe at the strength and ability of the man he was lucky enough to call his lover. "Maybe he really can achieve this…" he realised with no small amount of wonder.

"What nonsense are you talking?" Hanamichi demanded. "_He_ can achieve it? You're both on this fool's errand together you know. Uniting the houses – fuck! You're both fucking insane."

Akira allowed himself a small laugh and with the back of his sleeve wiped tears and blood out of his eyes.

A distant noise of approaching vehicles reached their ears and they knew at last that their time here was out.

"Time to split" Hanamichi commented, tossing the empty gun through the air to his brother who caught it in surprise. "Here: spoils of war. I'm sure he'd want you to take it. Now let's get the fuck out of here."

Akira nodded, hiding the kitsune-engraved gun inside his shirt and turned back to Kaede for the last time. He lifted the cool, elegant fingers to his lips and kissed them softly.

"I love you" he promised. "I'll see you again."

And he believed it too.

**Tis but thy name that is my enemy.**

For Kogure Kiminobu strength had always been defined by violence. For Hisashi it had been manifested in pride and independence. But for Akira, in the end, the greatest strength was simply the ability to keep walking despite the treachery and misery of the path before you. To live everyday alongside demons of despair and regret but not fall or falter before their temptations. If Kaede had taught him anything, it had been that.

So when he left that warehouse with its four bodies thrown so carelessly on the floor, three dead and one just clinging to life, he found that although each step felt like it was costing him more than he could possibly pay: he walked. Even though his heart was breaking: he walked. Because he knew that even though the sun must always give way to night, it didn't mean that it wouldn't rise again. And he trusted in Kaede's mastery of the darkness enough to know that it was not yet - _  
The End._

**For never was a story of more woe**

**Than that of Juliet and her Romeo.**

_But weep not ye yet, shed not a tear_

_Soil not pages of the master Shakespeare._

_Though we needs leave them now in parting and sorrow,_

_Mankind conceals always blind hope for tomorrow._

_So have faith, gentle reader, let lips pass not one sob,_

_For we prepare for you now a most glorious…_

_…epilogue!_

_(And if you see it so fit to review this fic,_

_I'll add in a hot little lemony bit!)_


	13. Postscript

**A Romeo and Juliet Story**

**Postscript**

A stone. Just one in particular, although it sits among many, many others. Already it bears the miniscule signs of age which are so hard to keep back. Nature is ever determined to reclaim what is rightfully hers.

The epigraph is simple. Lasting. And the stone is a reminder that we are all destined, one day, to return to the cold. But let us read the lines, the letters, the insufficient summary. And let us ask ourselves as the boy will ask himself for years to come: why for one love to live, must another love die?

Here lies

**Hisashi**

Heir to the House of Rukawa  
And worthy of its name.

_ALSO_

His life partner

**Kogure Kiminobu**

_**Come what sorrow may  
It cannot counterveil  
This exchange of  
Joy.**_


	14. Epilogue

_Endless thanks to Irrelevancy for her hard-work in bringing this fic up to scratch and for patiently putting up with all my endless freaking-out over tiny words which have no real consequence in the larger scheme of things and which you probably won't even notice._

_And many thanks to you, whoever may have read this story and enjoyed it even a little bit. You make it all worthwhile._

**A Romeo and Juliet Story**

**Epilogue**

_Warnings: Wow, this is my first ever "lemon"! Rating of fic has been adjusted to M accordingly._

On a frosty day in January, the day of the winter's first snow, a man could be seen struggling up the driveway towards the Sendoh mansion. Cold flurries buffeted him as he battled onwards, coat whipping and lashing out behind him ceaselessly. He'd pulled his collar up as high as it would go and was hugging the warmth of his body desperately.

He passed the clipped trees already blanketed with an easy dusting of white and climbed unsteadily up the flight of white marble stairs towards the brightly glowing main door which opened for him as if he'd been expected.

He tumbled in through the doorway and into the warmth without words of thanks. The butler who had permitted him entrance looked astonished at his pitiful appearance.

"Takato-sama!" he exclaimed in surprise.

Even in his desperation, the man remained hopelessly proud. His nose wrinkled in distaste as he surveyed the butler who had addressed him.

"Find Taoka" he barked in irritation, "and get me some brandy. I've been shot."

In alarm, the butler immediately set two servants about the tasks of finding Taoka and contacting the doctor Ishizuka. As for the brandy, he would see to that himself. He helped the esteemed guest through into the grandest of the sitting rooms.

Once he'd removed his coat, the wound in Takato's side was revealed to be bleeding profusely. Minutes later Ishizuka arrived in the room with his doctor's bag, experienced with these types of emergencies, and assisted Takato in lying down on the sofa where he began to clean the wound carefully. Soon after Taoka appeared in the doorway, followed by a tall, capable-looking man who Takato recognised as Taoka's eldest son.

"Takato-san!" Taoka exclaimed in surprise, seeing the man sprawled out on his damask sofa, "what's happened? Where are your men?"

"All dead," Takato grunted from where he lay, "It's been a disaster."

Taoka gaped, "but how?"

Takato gave a noise like an impatient tsk, "As if you need to ask." He gave a sudden, short hiss as Ishizuka applied alcohol to the wound, and continued only when the discomfort had subsided. "I must return to Tokyo" he said. "I've lost too many men to this. God knows how I am going to justify myself to Maki-sama" he rubbed his hands over his face unhappily. "You should give it up, Taoka. We've lost this one."

Taoka stared at him desolate for a moment before falling heavily into one of the room's plush armchairs. Akira remained hovering silently by the door like a shadow.

"But it doesn't make sense," Taoka fretted to himself, "we had twice as many men!"

Takato pursed his lips and then shook his head. "The Rukawa house is led by a demon, Taoka."

Taoka remained silent, and after a long moment collapsed back into the armchair as if exhausted. There were a few minutes of heavy silence as Ishizuka finished bandaging up Takato's wound.

"It's been three years" Taoka rambled, half to Takato, half to the walls. "Three years since Anzai died but the Rukawa house has only grown stronger. It's been six months since the rivalry escalated into open war but all we've gained is losses. And that boy…" he paused in the misery of his contemplation.

"Not having a picture of him doesn't make it any easier," Takato grumbled. "There's not a single photograph to be found anywhere. Not even in all the old newspaper clippings about the Tan murders back in '93 do they once show his face. He hasn't been seen in public for _years_. All we know for sure is that he has blue eyes and is missing two fingers on his right hand. It feels like we're fighting a shadow. It messes with the mind." He shook his head. "I must return to Tokyo" he repeated, "this is a lost cause."

Taoka ground his teeth in agitation as if wanting to argue, but was forced to drop his head in concurrence. "I understand" he said dejectedly, "but will you stay here tonight?"

"Yes" Takato confirmed, "I'm sorry to come upon you unannounced but I must admit that even I have begun to fear for my life. I don't yet understand why I am still alive when all my men were slaughtered, but I feel almost like I'm being… hunted." A shudder ran through him, "I do not feel safe about returning to my base tonight. I will sleep here and return to Tokyo first thing tomorrow."

"Your wound requires continuous treatment" Ishizuka spoke up for the first time as he helped Takato up into a sitting position, "I cannot approve of you travelling so soon."

Takato waved his hand in dismissal. "If I stay any longer I fear I will end up just another _kitsune_ victim."

Away by the door, Akira started at the name. No one had called Kaede by his former alias for many years. It brought quite unexpectedly the past much too close to Akira for comfort, as if Takato had sprung a surprise assault on his psyche. To think of Kaede as _Rukawa-sama_ was easier for him somehow. _Rukawa-sama_ could be categorized as something distant and alien and foe-like. But _kitsune_ was a name that caused a nasty stir of memories in his heart, and a clench of emotion in his gut.

Concerned that his sudden discomposure might be noticed, Akira turned away abruptly and left his father and Takato fretting together in the sitting room. They didn't notice him leave.

As Taoka had said, it had been three years. Three years since he had seen that face, those eyes. Three years trapped and uncertain while the loneliness ate away at him like acid. Three years standing by helplessly while the wily fox laid siege to his house, thwarting Taoka's every effort to maintain the balance, even straining the Maki-Sendoh alliance to the point of breaking.

Since his ascent the new Rukawa-sama had been both extraordinarily successful and extraordinarily reclusive, his presence was felt everywhere though he was never seen or heard. Few could boast of ever having seen his face. The Sendoh intelligence crumbled around him because Anzai had always treated him as little more than a mindless destructive machine and in turn the Sendohs had assumed him to be one. Only now were they beginning to fully appreciate how sharp his strategic mind really was, quite apart from the no less significant matter of his phenomenal skill in war.

There were some who had even come to believe that this phantom Rukawa-sama wasn't even real. Some claimed that Anzai's second son had died along with Hisashi and that the house had been usurped by the allied families and was now operated as a coalition. It was impossible to say for sure. Akira sighed. It was true enough that Kaede might as well have been dead to him.

He met Hanamichi on the stairs.

"I heard Takato is here."

Akira nodded mutely, still distracted by the recent jolt of memories and the corresponding pain in his chest.

"What's the news?" Hanamichi pressed.

"His men were wiped out" Akira repeated disinterestedly, "and he's returning to Tokyo tomorrow."

Hanamichi gaped. "Are you serious? They were so confident about this one."

Akira shrugged and pushed past him on the way up to his bedroom. Hanamichi caught his arm fiercely.

"Hey!" he pressed, "you're not still thinking about… you know" he trailed off and they both knew what he was talking about.

Irritated, Akira shrugged him off. "Doesn't matter if I think or not, there's nothing I can do."

Hanamichi held his gaze firmly. "I'm serious, Akira, I don't think you should wait for him. Since Anzai died the tension between the families has gotten worse, not better. He's in such a strong position now it doesn't seem likely that he'll… you know…" he dropped his voice to a secretive whisper "…return to you."

Akira bit his lip. "You're probably right" he conceded, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "He always was that kind of person. The kind ruled by sense and not by sentiment." He turned away and continued up the stairs. "Well, whatever."

Hanamichi watched him go, powerless as always to ease his brother's heartache.

**I have a soul of lead so stakes me to the ground**

**I cannot move.**

That night Akira's dreams were haunted again by Kaede. He saw his eyes, blue and piercing and cruel. He felt his touch; skeletal, blood-drained fingers like ice pressed to his cheek. Akira twisted and turned restlessly in his sleep. At one point he dreamt that Kaede was there in his room, but when he looked up and into those eyes they had turned red, fierce violent red, dripping blood like two gruesome lines of tears.

He woke up in the darkness in a sweat. The room was empty. Feeling angry with himself, he returned to sleep.

**O teach me how I should forget to think.**

It wasn't until several hours later that he was roused once again to wakefulness by the sound of someone hammering on his door. The room around him was still cast in the darkness of winter mornings and a glance at the digital alarm clock at his side revealed that it was just past six.

"The hell..?" he grumbled groggily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes before bidding whoever it was to enter. Immediately the head butler tumbled into the room in distress.

"What's going on?" Akira demanded sleepily, stifling a yawn.

"There's been a… a… an _accident_" the butler explained helplessly, practically wringing his hands in agitation.

"Accident?" Akira queried in confusion.

"Yes, in the main sitting room. Sendoh-sama I beg you go to see to the situation as a matter of some urgency."

His brow creased with confusion, Akira hauled himself out of bed wordlessly and, pulling a thick cotton bathrobe over his sleepwear, followed the butler out into the corridor. Not caring that he was somewhat under-dressed he stalked irritably through the house to the door of the sitting room, grumpy after his haunted dreams and interrupted sleep.

A group of five or six curious servants were gathered around the door, straining to look over each other's heads, but they moved quickly out of the way as Akira approached. Hanamichi came hurrying up behind him in a bathrobe of his own also looking decidedly sleepy.

"What the hell is this about?" he demanded, stifling a yawn.

Sparing his brother a bemused glance that communicated his equal lack of comprehension, Akira stepped inside the room and stopped short. Behind him he felt Hanamichi do the same.

The first thing he saw was blood. Not the bright, living liquid of his dream but dark and congealing puddles of putridity. Along with the sight came the smell. He could taste it metallic and sharp as if it were coated on his tongue.

The next thing he saw was the knife that had been left like a warning, stuck point down into the wooden floor so it stood erect and eerie like a tiny monument in the middle of the room. A threat, a warning or a mark of victory.

And at the epicentre of the devastation were two bodies, lying on the floor like the discarded cocoons of the souls they'd once held; faces upwards, eyes staring wide at the ceiling, lips parted with their last futile breaths. Their necks had been cleanly slit, like a gruesome red smile cracked in their throats leaking globs and clots of dark red gore onto the plush carpet and into their lank and lifeless hair.

His heart pounding, Akira moved closer to confirm what he already knew. The dead men were Takato and Taoka.

His stomach churned violently, and before he could stop himself he turned to the side and heaved a throatful of vomit onto the carpet.

Feeling sick and shaken he stared with unfocussed eyes at the elegant papered wall before his face. Perhaps he should have felt many emotions. Horror, shock, fear, not least of all sadness, loss. Perhaps those things would come later, but for now only one thought chimed in his mind, horrifying him with its selfish insistence:

_He was here. _

**But send him back.**

Two months later, in the Eastern wing of the Sendoh mansion, a figure could be seen silhouetted against a window overlooking the grounds. It was dusk, such that the room was dark, but the sky outside was still faintly aglow with ghostly twilight. For minutes and minutes the figure stood still and silent, not moving an inch, watching the shadows creeping in the gloom. Despite the lateness of the day, his eyes were hidden by an opaque pair of dark sunglasses, as if the weak dusk light alone could pain him.

He didn't move even when he heard the sounds of people in the corridor outside the door. He didn't turn even when the door opened and two noisy chattering subordinates entered to see him standing alone in the darkening room. They didn't recognise him - of course they didn't - but immediately alarmed they addressed him with accusing questions, and still he neither moved nor spoke. The serenity he had always been known for. Even in the face of death he always appeared utterly unmoved.

More voices now, more people attempting to enter the meeting room and demanding to know what the blockage in the doorway was about. He didn't hear the voice he was waiting for however, so he still did not turn away from the window, just an elegant statue causing untold confusion.

Finally he found a voice that he at least recognised. It was as brash and irritating as usual as it fought its way to the front of the group.

"You!" it exclaimed in shock.

He made no acknowledgment, for one was not required. There was a stunned silence and then he heard that voice speaking quickly to those around him.

"Find Akira now" it said in a commanding hiss.

"But…" came a baffled protest "…Sendoh-sama is…"

"_Now_!"

There was a noise of running feet, and the visitor continued to gaze through the window as silent and still as before.

It took a few minutes but eventually the lights were switched on. His dark glasses preserved him from the need to blink in the room's sudden brightness. He didn't move at first, waiting still for the confirmation of that voice. He could hear Hanamichi's ragged breathing and the rustling and shuffling of the others that flanked them. His breath stilled. Moments dragged on unbearably, and the urge to turn and look nearly overcame him. But it was here, the anticipation so sweet that he almost never wanted him to speak.

"You're two months late" he said.

Just perfect.

He turned away finally from the view of the gardens and let his gaze fall on the man who stood on the opposite side of the long conference table. Just five feet of wood and air separated them and it was almost too much to bear.

"Forgive me." His voice was a whisper.

Akira stared at him for a moment before turning his head to speak to the curious group still gathered around the doorway. As he did so, the intruder took a moment to appraise his profile. Akira had changed. Much of the easiness had gone from his expression, his hair had been cut shorter to a more conventional, business-like style, and his brow was darkened with concerns and troubles. He frowned to see that, but was not surprised by it. He too had changed after all.

"Leave us" Akira told the onlookers, and they were immediate in their respect of him, pulling back out of the room. "Hanamichi, Uncle" he added, "please stay for a moment."

Turning his attention back to his guest, Akira's hand lifted elegantly in an indication that he should sit, and he did so, settling himself in a seat at the very centre of the long table's opposing side. He folded his hands neatly together on the polished mahogany surface, the gap in his fingers disguised among the creases. Akira sat directly opposite him with Hanamichi to his left and a distantly familiar man to his right.

The visitor took a moment to peer with some curiosity at this third man, noticing his ageing frail frame, the drawn lines in his face, the grey in his hair. A familiar adversary from oh-so-many years ago. His name…? Yoku Myagi's voice rang as clearly in his memories as if he had been sitting in that cell only yesterday.

"Masaya Aida" he remembered, acknowledging the man with a tilt of his head. The man immediately looked puzzled.

"Forgive me" he replied uncertainly, glancing sideways at Akira as if for a cue, "But I'm not sure we've been introduced?"

The visitor made no reply. He resisted the urge to smile bitterly, and instead lifted his left hand to his black glasses, grasping the arm gently between thumb and finger. He hesitated for a moment before closing his eyes and sliding the shades smoothly from his nose. One second, two. Then, lifting his head in Akira's direction he opened his eyes.

Finally a reaction. Masaya leapt to his feet so quickly that the chair fell backwards to the floor.

"You!" he gasped in response to the vivid blue that could be neither disguised nor mistaken. The visitor held back another bitter smile though it tempted the corners of his lips insistently.

"Please sit down uncle" Akira said serenely, studying in curiosity the man who sat opposite him, no doubt in turn noticing the changes in him caused by these miserable lonely years.

"Sendoh-sama!" Masaya rambled as if in a state of shock. "Sendoh-sama, I must insist that you leave!"

Reluctantly Akira dragged his eyes away from his guest to focus on his distressed uncle.

"There's no need for that. Sit down uncle. I won't repeat myself a third time."

"It's dangerous! You can't stay. Don't you know who he…"

"I know exactly who he is."

"But he…"

The combined stares of Akira and Hanamichi caused Masaya to hesitate. He seemed to notice that he was the only one standing in the room, the only one reacting with panic, and after an awkward moment, he bent slowly to retrieve his chair, regaining a little of his composure, but suspicion still obvious in his face.

Akira's eyes returned irresistibly to the far side of the table. He wanted to say something, just his name would do, but it seemed that his mouth was too dry for words. For a long moment he could do nothing but stare, struggling intensely with himself, with the anticipations and apprehensions and raw panting desperation that rose within him.

"Kaede" he managed to whisper numbly, a name that had filled his heart but not passed his lips in three long years.

Kaede tilted his head slightly as if straining to catch the sound of his own name, eyes fluttering briefly closed. Then he spoke. "Three years ago" he began quietly, in the manner of a man who didn't need to raise his voice in order to be heard, "we made an agreement, Sendoh-san. I am here to ask whether or not the agreement still stands."

Akira realised that his hands were shaking. He hesitated for a few moments and then unsteadily rose from his chair.

"Sendoh-san?" he echoed, "is that what you would know me as?"

Kaede stared peaceably up at him. "Akira" he corrected himself without protest.

Akira closed his eyes. He took a breath through his nose and released it through his mouth. He opened his eyes again.

"Yes, it still stands."

"Agreement?" Masaya demanded, also rising to his feet once again. "What agreement? What the hell is this about?"

"It's quite simple" Hanamichi muttered softly to his uncle. "They've agreed to a ceasefire. They want to form an alliance."

_An alliance_. The words sounded like a heartbeat. Felt like a dream.

Kaede caught Akira's eye and stilled, seeing something in his intense gaze that stirred him. They watched each other across the table, earnest untold meaning in their stare.

Oblivious to their shared moment, with the colour draining rapidly from his face, Masaya stared at Hanamichi in disbelief. "But that's ludicrous" he spluttered, "Impossible." He turned away from Hanamichi to address Akira instead, "Sendoh-sama, please explain."

"As Hanamichi says" Akira replied dismissively, eyes still locked with Kaede's.

More confused than ever, Masaya turned his disbelieving eyes upon the only other occupant of the room. He found his eyes were drawn to the shadow of an old scar that snaked across his cheek and his unease only increased at the sight of it.

"Sendoh-sama," he continued feverishly, staring at Kaede with nothing short of horror as if he were some kind of animated corpse, "I'm afraid I must insist. I don't know what he's said to bewitch you, but you must leave at once. We can't trust this… this…" he flailed, "…this _murderer_. He's your _enemy_. I even believe he…" his voice dropped to a whisper and he spoke with serious urgency, eyes wide with meaning "…I think he is the one who killed your father."

Kaede sighed and dragged his eyes away from Akira, "I can't indulge in this argument at the moment" he replied calmly, neither confirming nor denying Masaya's accusations. "While I am here let me put down my offer. You may discuss my crimes and merits at your leisure later."

Masaya fell into mystified silence while Akira nodded for Kaede to continue.

With all attention focused expectantly on him, Kaede sat back and folded his arms with calm confidence. "My offer is this: If Sendoh Akira will agree to become the leader of the proposed alliance, I will provide him with full control over my house and its resources, full command of my skills such as they may be, and of course my most ardent loyalty."

"And what do you expect in return?" Hanamichi queried.

Kaede looked over at him. "Just that" he clarified. "Sendoh Akira at the head of the alliance. That is my only demand."

There was a stunned silence.

Akira leaned forwards, his eyes wide in concern. "But… wouldn't a joint leadership be more appropriate?"

"There must be one leader" came Kaede's immediate and uncompromising reply. "And it must be you."

Akira leaned back in his seat again, digesting this seemingly odd request. It was true enough that shared leadership would not be ideal, only serving to encourage divisions of loyalty among members, but still Akira wasn't sure that he was the one who should take on the central role. After all, it had been Kaede who had brought them here, to this point. It had been Kaede's skill that had made this even possible.

"Why do you want Akira to lead the alliance anyway?" Hanamichi demanded.

Kaede made no reply, though there was something of impatience in his stare, as if he deemed the issue unworthy of discussion. Akira stared at him blankly for a second, trying to see the paths by which he had come to this conclusion.

Full responsibility for the entire alliance was by no means a small request. It would entail responsibility for two families, two businesses, two sets of probably never-ending feuds, and the pressure of managing of a political bombshell just waiting to explode. It would require him to win the respect and loyalty of the members of the Rukawa house, including the heads of its highest and most influential families such as the Akagis and Myagis, who were each no less imposing than Kaede himself. And all this despite being tainted with the stigma of being a Sendoh.

Yet more, and perhaps most daunting for Akira, was that Kaede would become his subordinate. He would be in receipt of a most deadly weapon of untold potential – that fearsome _kitsune_. It would be on Akira's shoulders to put Kaede's unique and dangerous abilities to best use, and to keep at bay the endless morality demons that hounded him. To accept responsibility for Kaede's soul… could he really cope with that?

He toyed momentarily with the idea that as leader of the alliance he could end the _kitsune_ once and for all, set Kaede free from his chains by forbidding him to kill again. But he knew the next moment that it was only a naïve wish. Though the romantic in him wanted to become Kaede's saviour, he knew that Kaede was not asking for his protection. Knew that Kaede expected so much more of him than that.

So he dismissed the idea, and was left once again with the vision of the yawning chasm of the future he'd have to struggle against.

But the more he considered what being a leader of the alliance would involve, the more he came to see that Kaede was right. It _had_ to be Akira who did it. Hadn't persuasion and negotiation always been his forte? Born with a silver tongue and easy charm, a friendly, open manner and trustworthy face? And no matter what stigmas he would be operating under, there was no doubt that Kaede's reputation was far, far worse.

It might have been on Kaede's strength alone that they'd come this far, but from now on it could only be on Akira's skill that they would continue. He saw that now. He saw what Kaede was expecting of him, and how he would repay his debts to the young Rukawa leader.

"Is it even possible?" he couldn't help but query softly.

Kaede held his gaze, hesitating slightly as if despite everything even he could not be sure. "I'll be beside you" he reassured finally as compromise.

Akira closed his eyes for a moment, feeling apprehension welling inside him though he fought to quash it down. But then, bringing Kaede's fierce and steady gaze to the forefront of his mind he felt a strange contentment. He hadn't even realised how much he had forgotten. Yes, he'd most definitely forgotten this. This marvellous ease, this rolling confidence that only Kaede caused in him. The feeling of being two sides of one coin, countering and complimenting each other so perfectly.

He opened his eyes again.

"Then…" he said with a small nod, "...I will accept your offer."

**For this alliance may so happy prove, **

**To turn your households rancour to pure love.**

"But… it makes no sense!" Masaya protested, "Sendoh-sama you shouldn't trust this-"

"Will nothing satisfy you, old man?" Kaede finally rose from his seat, his expression turned black as he looked down on this stubborn obstacle, his irritation adding menace to his words. Masaya's body tensed and he moved his hands nervously, pursing his lips in concern, feeling the intensity of Kaede's displeasure like a wave.

"There's no proof" he contended bravely, though his voice swayed slightly with nervousness, "that you are genuine in your words."

Kaede glowered at him displeased before turning silently on his heel and moving gracefully around the long table to join them on the far side.

He drew nearer and nearer, coming the closest he had in years, and Akira felt a deep thrill, his heartbeat speeding up perceptibly. He expected Kaede to approach Masaya, but instead the boy stopped directly behind Akira's chair.

"Stand up, Akira" he requested evenly.

A little confused, clueless to Kaede's intentions, Akira did as asked and turned to meet those blue eyes. The two boys stood facing each other, eye to eye, silent and appraising, both of them tense, both of them suddenly all too aware of each inch of their own trembling bodies: each rush of breath they took, the way their shoulders rose and fell, the way their hearts chimed.

"Let this be your proof" Kaede said, his eyes flickering in challenge towards Masaya.

Akira's breath stilled in anticipation. What would Kaede do? Would he perhaps lean forward and kiss him? Here? Right in front of Masaya and Hanamichi? His heartbeat hammered in his chest. Somehow he truly hoped he would.

But Kaede didn't make the forward motion of a kiss. Instead he gave an elegant dip of his head, a slight twist of his back, every inch of him as poised and graceful as a dancer as he dropped silently to his knees. His long artistic fingers placed tip to tip on the carpet before him, perfectly aligned and perfectly symmetrical except for the gap where two digits were missing. He arranged himself so carefully and so elegantly, each of his motions deliberate and clear, that Akira was momentarily too entranced by the delicate beauty of it to realise its significance.

Finally a tilt of his head and his hair fell alluringly over his eyes. Kaede leaned forward, each action elegant perfection, and with flawless serenity, touched his forehead to the floor at Akira's feet.

"Sendoh-sama" he intoned softly.

Both Masaya and Hanamichi had eyes as wide as saucers. Akira seemed too stunned to react.

"Please accept my life to utilise or forfeit as you see fit" Kaede muttered evenly. He lifted his head from the floor only enough to reach behind him and pull a short blade from somewhere at his waist.

Akira had to bite down on his tongue to resist the temptation to stop him. It was unbearable to see Kaede prostrate himself before him but, he knew from a flickering glance at Masaya, it was also going to be necessary as the prelude to everything that would follow.

Kaede made an elegant show of scoring a shallow line across his left palm, a thin track of blood blossoming there alongside an old scar from the same ritual performed years ago.

With the action complete, Kaede stayed in his bowed posture, still offering his wounded hand upwards for inspection, waiting for the instruction to rise. The entire room watched him in disbelief.

"That's the Rukawa initiation" Masaya whispered in astonishment into the silence.

Akira looked over at him. "Does it satisfy you?"

Masaya seemed incapable of answering for a moment. "No Rukawa would make light of his own traditions" he finally acknowledged breathlessly.

Akira nodded. "Good. We'll discuss our ongoing plans another time. Do not disclose any part of this meeting to anyone, we must move very carefully from here on. You may leave us now."

Before Masaya could make any protest, Hanamichi had placed a hand on the man's back and, standing, guided him firmly towards the door. The redhead threw an encouraging smile at Akira as he pulled the door closed behind him, finally leaving the two young leaders to their well earned privacy.

**Two in one.**

Kaede had not moved from his position on the floor, even as the door closed he made no motion to stand. Akira began to realise that the vow had not simply been for show but something in which he placed great value. It was, as Masaya had said, a part of the traditions his family had obeyed for generations and he had been entirely serious in his performance of it.

"Kaede…" he began awkwardly, "…please stand up." It felt awful to look down on him. Every drop of Akira's soul contended fiercely against the unnatural position of authority it had become necessary for him to assume.

The muscles in Kaede's tense back relaxed but he didn't obey immediately. Instead, with a neat twist of his hand he cleaned the blade of his knife with a crisp white handkerchief, both the knife and the cloth vanishing into the folds of his clothes before he rose back to his feet, eyes remaining fixed on the floor.

He seemed so serious that Akira was momentarily unsure how to approach the situation. The strangely shifted power-balance was hopelessly awkward for both of them.

They both wanted to fall back into where they had been before, but both knew that there were new distances drawn between them that were once again so difficult to cross.

Being in the same room as each other in the presence of others had been weird enough. Theirs had always been a relationship of great secrecy. Even to simply allow their eyes to meet when there were others who might notice seemed somehow rash, almost dangerous. It was instinct that closed them down and their coolness towards one another was the reason that Masaya Aida left that room without the slightest inkling of their true relationship. But now that the door had clicked closed, it was even weirder.

Akira's mouth felt drier. His heart was fluttering more weakly. His stomach felt positively ill.

The sight before him was a familiar one. He'd seen it before. Kaede's head dipped and avoiding his eye, looking resolutely at the floor. An unnatural meekness. That show of subservience. A suggestion of timidity in his posture.

But Akira knew it for what it was: an illusion.

It was yet another instinct born this time of Kaede's own self-loathing. Something that whispered like demons in his ear that his strength, his skill, himself were things of which he should be ashamed.

With one finger, Akira lifted Kaede's chin and peered into his face. As he had expected, there was no blush on his cheeks, and no evidence of uncertainty in his eyes. The boy was made of iron. Strong beyond belief. And though to Kaede it seemed a curse, to Akira he was perfect. Every scar on his heart. Every shadow over his soul. Even the tattered part of him which craved surrender, craved humiliation, relished in the sensation of being defeated, was a part that Akira cherished tightly. All the more so because that was the part of Kaede that belonged exclusively to him. The part that only he had seen.

And seeing him now, trying to hide, trying to pretend to be other than what he was, lost among his own feelings of inadequacy, Akira understood it. Understood him.

He understood what his childhood had done to him, how the _kitsune_ had broken him, how much he had lost. He even understood that such powerful self-hatred had only spared Kaede his life because his life had never been his own to take.

He knew why Kaede needed to feel out of control, needed to answer to another, needed for someone else to cage him in. He understood that Kaede had killed Taoka out of sheer desperation: that he simply couldn't have outrun his demons any longer, he had run out of time.

He knew him. Knew him and loved him all the more for the sorry state of his splintered soul.

And knowing all that he allowed a smile to touch his lips and sensed Kaede relax a little. Encouraged, Akira raised a hand to tilt his chin up slowly, bringing them breath to breath. Kaede stilled, his breathing becoming swallow in reaction to the closeness they hadn't shared in so long.

"You…" Akira muttered, staring into the fierce blue eyes now only inches from his own. He moved his hand over the line of his jaw, just a delicate feature touch to which Kaede couldn't help but incline his head slightly, a secret invitation, a silent little plea. Akira felt his lips tremble slightly with the anticipation, pooling his hand at the back of Kaede's neck, preventing escape as he breathed through his mouth.

"I…"

He pulled Kaede ever so slightly closer, feeling the warmth of him, smelling the gentle masculinity of his skin, feeling his nerves tingling with it all.

"Kaede…" he whispered, the name alone a breathy kiss, a trembling in his throat, the distance between them closing in the tiniest of increments. He felt almost afraid, as if the anticipation would overshadow the thing itself, but it wasn't so.

The first touch was nothing more than a chaste brush of lips and it seemed to Akira that Kaede's lips were even softer than his memories had rendered. His breath was sweeter, more innocent, a delicate swirl of honey and cream.

Akira tightened his hold on the back of his neck, pulling him closer still. The whole world was this moment. Everything, the entire elongated conversation, the years apart, their brief time together, were nothing but a prelude to this. Kaede became weak in his arms as Akira explored his fears and half-held hopes, filling him with warmth and welcome.

As their actions deepened in intensity, the kiss spiralling down deeper into their pooled desire, Akira began to nudge Kaede back towards the table and he went willingly. Then, when Kaede had run out of room to retreat before Akira's weight, their tongues twisted together more hungrily, more fiercely until they were both dizzy with it.

Akira felt Kaede hum as he pressed his free hand between clothed thighs, forcing them open and filling the gap between them with his own body in an effort to bring them ever closer. A futile wish to fully eradicate the distance between their two pounding hearts. His hands roamed over Kaede's shoulders, his back, his neck, and smiled as he felt Kaede surrendering himself to the sensations of such possession.

He caught his fist in Kaede's hair and pulled him backwards, unbalancing him so he leant back on his hands, nails seeking purchase on the smooth table top. Akira followed him hungrily, not allowing their shared heat to break apart for even a moment.

He kept Kaede trapped, pressing him ever backwards, surprising even himself with the ferocity of his desire to exert his claim over Kaede's body. Just a second to pull back and suck in a hungry gasping breath and then they were pulled under again. Lost under the rip curling waves of their shared desires.

Kaede was too dazed by it to notice how Akira used a foot to hook the leg of a chair and drag it near, nor even the gentle fumbling at his belt and waistband. It was only when Akira finally broke away from the kiss that Kaede was left to moan softly his breathless complaint.

"Shhh" Akira hushed him gently, dropping back to sit in the chair he'd pulled over, two hands vanishing into Kaede's now parted fly directly before him, seeking impatiently for the hot heat hidden under the cotton, pulling it free as Kaede looked down on him dazedly with hooded eyes.

He wondered what Kaede felt then – whether it was the familiar rise of panic, the urge to bolt, to deny, how his body struggled at the sight of Akira's parted lips. He wondered whether to Kaede it was something frightening or something welcomed. The rush of Akira's breath on his skin, their eyes meeting briefly. Was it too much to bear? Akira watched keenly for his reaction and took him long and slow into his mouth. He felt nothing loss than triumphant when Kaede threw back his head and moaned.

The noise was one of complete abandon, so rare, so unique, so unlike Kaede that Akira shivered with it. Kaede's hands fisted in his hair as he gasped and shuddered, allowing himself to become totally lost for once in the sensations of the moment, begging Akira with his hisses and mews to move ever faster, squeeze ever tighter. Akira let his hands side around under his heated body, playing delicately about the small entrance there, stroking it and wiggling against it, letting Kaede ride on his shame, squirming desperately until with a final voluminous cry he curled his body forward, bringing up his knees, embracing the warm head between his thighs almost protectively as he released his humiliation in shuddering ecstasy down Akira's throat.

Then, drained and weak, Kaede fell back onto the table top, arms spread, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling in a daze.

Akira rose slowly from his chair and looked down at the boy who lay so helplessly on his conference table. He was almost drunk with the vision as he pulled off his shirt and crawled onto the table over him knee by knee.

Kaede's eyes didn't open even as Akira worked gently to open the buttons of his shirt, pushing it aside to reveal his smooth chest, built slim and fast and sinewy. His hands moved over the now quietened body exploratively, relearning the shapes of him, appreciating the lines and contours that made up his strength, finally brushing against the holster that looped over his shoulders.

Reaching deeper Akira took a grip on the gun that hid there. It felt hard and warm and dangerous in his hand. Kaede made no protest as he tugged it out of its holder and stared down at it. Then, with an easy gesture, he tossed it casually aside. Further exploration revealed two elegant knives at Kaede's waist which were set down by the gun before Akira returned his full attention to Kaede's body, feeling once again the rush of emotion that came from knowing that this deadly creature belonged to him.

Acting on his possessive impulse he gifted him with teasing kisses, making his way up towards Kaede's neck where he caught a fold of flesh in his mouth and sucked on it hard. Kaede finally moved, hissing softly and arching his back, turning his head to offer the full length of his neck to Akira to mark.

Akira continued his bite, determined to stake a claim on what he'd been forced to keep secret for so long. When he drew back, Kaede opened his eyes and Akira kissed his lips long and deep in apology, leaving the boy utterly breathless.

Taking advantage of his continued vulnerability, Akira caught his fingers in Kaede's waistband and with a smooth motion pulled trousers and briefs down together, leaving the boy entirely naked before his eyes. He drunk in the sight of him thirstily, almost unable to believe that he was really here. That they were really doing this.

He'd never seen Kaede bare in the light before – their earlier trysts had always occurred in the secretive dark of the night time. He was surprised now to see how his skin was marked with welts and scars in a number of places, residual reminders of how many wars this renowned killer had fought, as well as how many times he had failed.

Discarding the last of Kaede's clothes to the side, he moved down to look for the small circular scar that marked the front of Kaede's knee right. He kissed it lightly and lifted his eyes to seek for the other. Identical to the first, a small splodge of scarred skin that formed a vaguely circular shape a little way to the left, below his navel. Akira kissed that mark too before moving up still further, taking Kaede's chin between his fingers and tilting his head gently to examine the final scar that snaked across his cheek.

Akira ran his tongue affectionately over it, starting at the outward edge and moving inwards along the scar's length until he was touching Kaede's lips which parted invitingly for him. He delved inside, slower, more powerfully this time, stroking Kaede's tongue with his own, drawing it out infinitely, causing the boy beneath him to shudder and squeeze his eyes closed helplessly.

Reaching down between them, Akira turned his fingers to his own clothing, hooking the buttons and opening them efficiently. He cringed a little as he brushed against the seeping wetness that had soaked a considerably patch into his cottons but it was understandable considering how long he had waited for this day.

_The last time we did this_ he recalled silently, _I never thought we'd be able to do it again._

Kaede's silent response to the momentary pause was to push Akira's hands away and wrap his own softly around the straining heat.

"Ah!" Akira hissed in gratitude and closed his eyes at the sensation. Kaede's fingers were long and firm and cool, gently stroking down his skin, his single thumb drawing circles at the tip, picking up the seeping beads of wetness and spreading them over the head.

Kaede moved his hands along Akira's length pleasantly and Akira allowed him to continue for some time, hips rocking with the pleasure. But as he felt his arousal mount he reached down to pull Kaede's grip away. Moving his hands soothingly around his thighs, up under his knees, Akira's lifted his slim body until his legs were looped causally over his shoulders. Then he paused.

Kaede's stare was brim full. Too much for Akira to decipher.

"Kaede…" he began but paused. He wanted to say something, something meaningful, something poignant but couldn't. No words were coming to him. They were moving in an eloquent silence together. He was filled with nothing but the sound of his name and the splendour of his body. There were no words for this.

_This will hurt him_ he finally realised, knowing they didn't have anything to lubricate their joining but knowing they couldn't stop either. He felt Kaede's fingers mesh in his hair and drag him closer as if for another kiss, but stopping with their lips millimetres apart.

"Are you afraid?" Kaede finally whispered in the face of his hesitation.

Akira froze.

"Of pain, of death…" Kaede's words brushed over him like a spell, "…of love?"

Akira focused his eyes on him. "I'm not afraid."

"Then…" Kaede's tongue lapped appeasingly at his parted lips, causing him to shiver, "…master them."

Squeezing his eyes closed, Akira moved forward.

He had been expecting Kaede's hurt, but not his own. Kaede's tense body was like a rough iron grip around him. It was raw and forceful and painful, but he didn't pause. He looked down to see Kaede's reaction, seeing that he endured equal pain though no sound passed his lips and no protest was forthcoming. When, despite the harshness of their union, Kaede parted his legs further in encouragement, Akira forced himself as deep as he could bear before stopping, gasping, unsteady with equal measures of hurt and arousal.

Kaede's fingers pattered trembling over his forearms until they gripped his shoulders and the boy let out a long open mouthed sigh. Akira felt him relax his desperate grip on him through sheer force of will. He drew back before moved inwards again – it was easier this time, a slide rather than a force. He relaxed a little in turn.

But next time he drew back he looked down and realised that the increased ease of his movements was due in part to the smoothing effect of Kaede's blood.

"Kaede?" he gasped in concern, stopping his motions immediately.

"Move" came the soft demand, Kaede's eyes still squeezed closed, the effort of his self-control standing out in sweat on his brow.

"But you're bleeding."

"Doesn't matter."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"…please."

_Please_.

He hesitated for a moment longer, remembering… _he wants to escape himself…_ before pushing back in, hearing Kaede gasp with pain and gratitude.

As he continued to move, in, out, long and slow, with Kaede writhing beneath him, Akira was once again awed by this ocean of a soul that was his lover. Dark parts and twisted places tempered with the capacity for great care, the ability to cry, the audacity still to dream. And this. This. Pleasure and humiliation. All together. Pain, death and love. The greatest way to be alive. The only way he could bear the weight of his own guilt, tempering it with pleasure-ridden destruction.

Akira shuddered and moved deeper, harder, forceful and unrelenting, in turn feeling Kaede wrap his limbs around him desperately, clinging to him like a support in a whirlwind, gasping his name with both distress and unadulterated adoration.

Akira forced his way thrust after thrust, not hesitating, not slowing, showing no mercy. He did it because he understood that Kaede wanted it, needed it so much more than he needed sloppy comfort or sympathy. He did it because he wanted Kaede to feel alive. He did it because Kaede was begging him to.

Finally Kaede let out a cry, mournful and beautiful, quivering under Akira's overthrow as he collapsed in upon himself, spilling over his own chest, his sudden clench of muscles prompting Akira to do the same with an equally loud exclamation of blinding pleasure.

He fell forward over him, still pinning him down, shuddering with the aftershock of his intense release. As they remained there, frozen in place, the room that had become so concentrated around them suddenly seemed larger again, more quiet and still, filled self-consciously with the sound of their rasping breaths.

Still, they didn't speak. They didn't need to. Akira dropped sideways alongside Kaede and they lay together on the hard and uncomfortable table top in exhausted silence for a long while.

It was Kaede who finally moved first, lifting himself with a wince into a sitting position, nursing his back where it had rubbed against the wood and ignoring the trickles of blood from between his thighs. Akira looked up in him in concern.

"Are you…?"

"I'm fine" he let out a harsh jagged breath.

Akira sat up beside him and instinctively pulled him into a warm embrace, skin on skin, causing Kaede to stiffen uncomfortably. Akira ignored his reaction and simply buried his nose in his hair, adoring him, every inch of him.

"A part of me was afraid this day would never come. I'm glad. So glad to… see you to… have you, here, like this."

Hearing his words, Kaede hesitated before shifting slightly and, with a little awkwardness, rested his head against Akira's shoulder. Akira beamed silently to the wall in response to this tiny loving confession.

They reminded leaning against one another for some time, but after a while Akira's mind turned to their other matters of concern and ran his hands over Kaede's bare back thoughtfully. "Tomorrow" he began "I will come to the Rukawa mansion with Hanamichi. Can you assure us a safe entrance?"

Kaede nodded silently.

"We're going to have to move quite slowly," Akira continued softly, musing to himself, looking up at the ceiling, mind deep in planning, "The rivalry is not going to be washed away overnight. It will probably be best to invent some simple collaborative ventures to bring a greater feeling of cooperation first. Then we must reign in and ensure the obedience the larger factions."

"Using force?"

"Not at first. Their loyalty will be of more value than their fear, and harder won too. But…" he stroked Kaede's hair absentmindedly, "I'll need your help to stem any outright rebellion if it occurs."

Kaede nodded his understanding.

Akira looked down at him and suddenly saw him with fresh eyes. The sole owner of the Rukawa estate, not even twenty years old and already one of the largest drug barons in Japan. Dangerous assassin, tactical genius, that formidable _Rukawa-sama_ who, over the past three years, had managed to bring the house of Sendoh almost to its knees.

This unassuming and fair skinned boy, a little skinny, a little small, like a plant that never saw enough light.

His formidable business partner.

His vulnerable lover.

Impulse made him smile at Kaede, hoping against hope that in the following years he might be able to raise even a single node of peace amongst the wreckage of Kaede's split soul. Hoping in turn that perhaps Kaede would do the same for him.

Tentative fingers meshing uncertainly in his hair made him pause and focus on the nearby blue eyes.

"Akira…" his voice was softer and gentler than a passing breeze, but though his lips parted as if to say more, nothing came out. Akira watched Kaede struggle with himself for a while, fond amusement gathering in his eyes before he leaned down and solved his partner's discomfort with a soft, chaste kiss.

"I know" he replied.

**For no more**

**Can I demand.**

-complete 3rd April 2011

X

In case you are interested, here are the songs which inspired and in so many places wrote this story for me:

Angels (Within Temptation)- _Chapter 11 _(_Kogure's suicide)_  
Animal I Have Become (Three Day's Grace)  
Assassin (Muse)  
Clowns (TaTu)  
Cosmic Love (Florence and the Machine) – _Akira/Kaede light/dark theme_  
Crawling (Linkin Park)  
I'm Yours (The Script) – _Epilogue (Kaede's song for Akira lol awwww!)_  
Incomplete (Backstreet Boys) – _Epilogue (Akira's life without Kaede.)_  
Invincible (Muse) – _Chapter 10 (Akira's I-don't-give-a-fuck-anymore attitude)_  
The Last Song (X-Japan) – _Chapter 10 (the last moment of peace)_  
Lightning Rod (The Offspring)  
Map of the Problematique (Muse) – _Akira's theme!_  
Numb (Linkin Park)  
Open Your Eyes (Snow Patrol) – _Epilogue (meeting each other again)_  
Race Against Myself (The Offspring)  
Rebirthing (Skillet) - _Kaede's theme_  
Resistance (Muse) – _The fic theme!_  
Sweet Sacrifice (Evanescence)  
Time of Dying (Three Days Grace) – _Chapter 12 (I swear I listened to this non-stop the entire time I was writing. Days and days and DAYS.)_  
Undisclosed Desires (Muse) – _Chapters 8 + 9 (another non-stop loop-fest)_  
Who Wants to Live Forever (Queen)  
日以繼夜 (AT17) – _Kaede's theme (alternative)_

And of course Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_ whose pages I have poured over endlessly.

X

10 years in conception. 2 years in writing. Now this is finally finished, I mostly wonder what the hell am I going to do with myself now?


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